The Sorceress
by Raaya57
Summary: Following the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger elects to pursue a rigorous Dual Apprenticeship in Transfiguration and Potions. Her new path uncovers new adventures, a journey of self-discovery, and friendships that unfold into so much more. Mostly canon compliant. HG/OC and eventual HG/MM. Harry, Ron, most characters included. Rated M for later developments.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Very much a WIP. Please see note at very bottom for a bit more detail about what is to come... Thank you for reading!**

* * *

Hermione Granger sat on a large outcropping of rock, chin firmly planted on one knee as she gazed out over the Aegean sea. Lost in thought, she barely registered soft footsteps coming toward her over the reassuring rhythm of waves below. A dark hand on her shoulder startled her and she unconsciously gripped her wand as she turned with a small intake of breath.

The familiar face of her Master gazed down at her with a warm smile, light seafoam colored eyes crinkling at the corners and dark curls spilling over one shoulder.

"Hermione, I know you're still mulling over our earlier discussion, but Eleni will have dinner prepared soon. Care to make your way indoors?" she asked with a small tilt of her head. Hermione responded with a quick smile before sighing and settling back into her former position looking out over the sea. She was being somewhat rude, but she knew her Master would allow it under the circumstances.

It had been an unexpectedly jarring day.

"A few more minutes…" She mumbled. A soft caress of her shoulder told her that Master Kallas had understood and she waited for the light footsteps to fade away as the older woman picked her way back up the steep hill towards the villa.

The sun had just fallen beyond the horizon, leaving the sky a glorious display of vibrant red and orange. High above, the first stars were just becoming visible against the deepening cerulean blue of the approaching evening. A light breeze wound its way through her curls, tickling her back.

She had been on Naxos for nearly a year and a half, but the sheer beauty of the natural world never ceased to amaze her. Hermione found herself opening her eyes wider, trying to capture the subtle gradient of changes in color and texture as day made its way into night. Her thoughts were jumbled, rolling and crashing into one another with more eddies and spirals than the waves meeting the rocks just a few more meters below.

She sat for an undetermined amount of time, lost in her questions and musings as a light lavender slowly replaced the brilliant colors of sunset and the distant silhouettes of the neighboring islands, Koufonisi and Schoinousa, fell into shades of deep indigo.

A distant bell sounded and Hermione sat up with a sharp inhale, aware that she had likely kept her Master waiting. She swung her legs around and planted bare feet on the gravelly white path, shaking herself free from her reverie.

Her long legs were more than sunkissed by this point. On her infrequent ventures into town, she was often mistaken as a local between her bronzed skin and dark riotous mane that now spilled halfway down her back. The Mediterranean weather had done wonders for her hair - no longer bushy and uncontrolled, it fell in soft curls with golden highlights from the sun. She wasn't sure if it was the regular doses of salt water, the simple benefit of age, or the handmade shampoo that her Master brewed, but Hermione was willing to take it.

For the first time in her life she felt free from concerns about her appearance and had instead learned to revel in the changes to her body - the softening of her hair was one benefit, but living on an island had returned her love of swimming and exploring outdoors - leading to lithe and supple muscles, a strong core, and an empowered sense of her own body that was new and thrilling.

Gone were the days of insecurity about her own form or subtle doubts about her own physical capabilities. Her apprenticeship had come with hard work.

The first six months had her running long-distance around the island and hiking regularly up Mount Zeus as Master Kallas had insisted upon developing the relationship between her physical and magical strength. Later she had moved on to actual strength training as they breezed through her first few levels and she had gotten hung up on the complexities of durational spellwork in the fifth.

Eleni, her Master's House Elf, had begun plying her with protein shakes in the morning, popping in with uncanny precision at least a half hour before her workouts, sometimes staying with a stopwatch to offer times on her circuits in a high-pitched trilling voice.

Upon her arrival to Naxos, Hermione's Master had introduced Eleni and Stelios as the two House Elves under her _employment_. The statement had been stressed with a subtle arch of a brow and Hermione had nearly burst with excitement and pride at discovering her new mentor was as unyielding in her beliefs about equal rights for Magical Beings as she herself.

It was a match made in heaven.

In the subsequent months, Hermione had become closer to both elves whose entire families had been educated in Athens for generations under the protection of two prominent wizarding families, one of which included her own master's.

Stelios was a stately older Elf with a shock of soft white hair and a memory like a steel trap. He was practically a living library and Hermione frequently found herself consulting Stelios regarding local geography and unfiltered accounts of Wizarding history in Ancient Greece. She quickly found a close friend in Eleni, who had a love of Muggle poetry and a dry wit despite her young age ("Forty-three years, which is still a teenager by Elvish standards… though I am your elder nonetheless and you would do well to remember it!").

Hermione had enjoyed many long conversations with both elves debating everything from magical theory (Stelios had absorbed much of his Master's research over the years and had been sworn to secrecy), to the ISOS addendums regarding magical creatures, to the best brands of Muggle cleaning products.

Her apprenticeship had progressed rapidly and Hermione was nearly complete with her first classifications. Though Master Kallas was not one for overstated displays of affection, Hermione had gathered that the older witch had been pleased by her rather rapid progress. While her Master exuded a natural warmth in simple day-to-day matters, she was otherwise difficult to read. Hermione knew the witch held her abilities in high confidence, but as she drew closer and closer to the end of her first classifications, she couldn't help but feel nervous as she prepared her theses for Master Kallas' consideration. The witch was enigmatic and mysterious with an uncompromising demand for innovation and quality that made her a formidable voice in both her disciplines.

The walk up to the villa seemed to pass in the blink of an eye and Hermione found herself at the edge of the outdoor terrace, watching blankly as her Master finished restoring the edge of a chipped pergola overhead where lavender fronds of wisteria waved gently in the evening breeze. The broad wooden table had been set for two, including a bottle of Merlot and several small candles charmed into floating lazily overhead.

Master Kallas spotted her and gestured politely to sit as Eleni arrived to arrange their meal. Dinner was an unusually silent affair as the two women exchanged plates wordlessly, piling them high with fresh salad greens, roasted eggplants, light cheeses, and a rather scintillating dish of grilled peaches and balsamic vinaigrette.

Hermione focused her attention on the food - the rich blend of flavors and herbs, the freshness of the vegetables, and Eleni's talented touch at plating the individual dishes. Eventually, however, the meal reached its end, and her Master folded her napkin primly and pushed her plate aside. Hardly daring to look over her wine glass, Hermione waited as the other woman folded her arms on the table and leaned forward.

"Hermione. It's time to talk."

Hermione immediately blushed, feeling the heat spread across her neck and beneath the neckline of her linen shift. She pushed her wine glass out of reach, wondering how she could feel so feverish so quickly. Maybe she was ill? This couldn't be normal, could it?

"Master, I… uh…"

Well, it was clearly an auspicious start to their conversation.

 _Sweet Circe, get it together, Hermione!_

"Drop the formalities for a moment, please. It's just you and me, darling." Hermione groaned, plunking both elbows on the table in a manner she knew would typically upset her Master, but she didn't care. She let her head fall forward into her hands, cheeks still flushed in embarrassment, allowing her curls to swing forward and shield her face from view. A lump of emotion had formed at the back of her throat and she felt strangely queasy.

"Master... _Dia_ … I honestly don't know what to tell you right now. I just…" Hermione trailed off, giving in to her own convoluted misery for the moment.

 _Merlin!_ Were those tears pricking the corners of her eyes? Honestly. She could barely call herself a Gryffindor at the moment. She was pathetic.

"Look at me, please?" It was a quiet request, but a request nonetheless. With just a hint of a demand behind it, Hermione had no choice but to lift her head and look at the woman sitting across from her.

Dual Master of Transfiguration and Potions - Fourth and Fifth Class respectively, Diamantina Kallas was a gorgeous witch, that much was certain.

She was a delicate woman with seemingly porcelain features - high, sweeping cheekbones, a small narrow nose, and a curly mane of ebony locks that spilled over narrow shoulders like a waterfall. Unapologetically Greek, Diamantina "Dia" wielded power through a combination of sensual grace and quiet, steely resolve. Though she was a bit shorter than Hermione, Dia could command an entire room with a tilt of her head, a softly worded demand, or understated demonstration of her vast reservoir of skills and knowledge. She was effortlessly collected, rarely ruffled, with a keen grasp of magic that routinely left Hermione in awe and later vexed, as she scrambled to replicate her Master's unique and subtle style.

At the moment, Dia's luminous seafoam eyes regarded Hermione with a hint of sympathy.

"Hermione, I apologize for springing such personal information upon you earlier. I honestly thought Minerva would have informed you in some way before you came to me, however I see that I was in error. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable."

Those pale turquoise eyes seemed impossibly large in the candlelight and for the umpteenth time since their previous conversation earlier in the day, Hermione found herself frantically backpedaling, grasping for composure, afraid her Master would pick up the thread of emotions coursing through their bond.

"Master Kall- _Dia_ , I'm sorry. I'm not reacting well at all and I have no excuse… you just… shocked me, that's all. Prof - er… _Minerva_ was - _is_ \- Gods! She _is_ such a private person. I don't know why I assumed that she wouldn't have a personal life. Merlin, that's so stupid! I just didn't _think_ … I mean… not that it's a bad thing or anything, I mean-"

"Hermione. You're babbling." Dia held up a delicate hand, her thin gold bracelets flashing brightly in the candlelight.

"Right." Hermione opened and closed her mouth before choosing to fall silent. It seemed that her cheeks were destined to remain on fire. It was completely unfair. Everything was going wrong and she was digging her own grave deeper and deeper. _Bloody hell._

Master Kallas kept her face composed as she gave Hermione a long, searching look before reclining in her high-backed chair. Dark arms relaxed on both armrests gently and she took a moment to cross her legs demurely, deftly arranging folds of white linen to drape over her legs evenly. Even in the dim lighting, Hermione had to admire her Master's toned arms in her sleeveless summer robes. The witch was willowy and lean with a perpetually serene aura of satisfaction.

"I have a few things to say, darling."

Hermione waited, feeling an unfortunate swirl of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Master Kallas' use of the endearment no longer irked her as it had in months previous. It seemed the witch tacked the word on to almost everything. At first, Hermione had felt patronized by its usage, as though her Master were speaking to a young child. Now, she viewed the habit with a hint of envy as the elder witch tossed it out to friend and stranger alike as if she were an elegant movie star in an old black and white film.

It didn't feel far from the truth.

"I realize that, until now, our relationship has been strictly professional and as a result I do not actually know you very well," Master Kallas' musical voice was firmly entrenched in "lecture mode." Hermione perked up slightly at the familiar tone and she listened with a bit more fervor as the witch continued.

"The bond of Master and Apprentice allows me to feel the pulse of your energy, the tenure of your emotions, the distinctive ebb and flow of your magic as a means of helping you learn. As you are now discovering, it can be deeply intimate at times," she fixed Hermione with an opaque look and Hermione swallowed hard. "However the primary purpose of the bond has always been for ease of instruction, and in ancient times - for protection, as magical folk were frequently persecuted by Muggles who became suspicious of bonded pairs."

Hermione nodded dutifully wondering where she was going as none of the information was new to her by any means. Master Kallas tilted her head, gold earrings tinkling quietly.

"Today we moved into new territory and I felt... something new from you."

The familiar footing they had been sharing dropped away and Hermione's heart was in her throat. _Don't ask me about it. Don't ask me about. Don't ask me about it._

"In fact it was remiss of me not to have noticed it earlier. Our conversation today stemmed from my wish to impart our shared history. It seemed only appropriate that you should know the lineage of your Mastery. Though you have read it in books, heard my stories, and viewed some of my memories, the intimacy of our journey together is vital to the success and direction of your advancement and to the disciplines themselves."

Master paused and reached out to grasp her wine glass as Hermione mulled over the witch's words.

"Why does the Wizarding world adhere to such an archaic tradition such as this, Hermione?"

Hermione felt a familiar thrum of anticipation in her chest. Her Master's question was worded softly and Hermione knew that she was about to walk into decidedly uncertain territory. Master Kallas had a way of asking questions that lead to a desired answer, usually in conjunction with some sort of unexpected yet salient epiphany.

"Because first-hand knowledge is key towards advancing in any given discipline as subjects become more refined and therefore more challenging. Not to mention the advantage of having personalized attention, a flexible course of study, and the opportunity to seek more information or clarifications as needed."

"What is first-hand knowledge, precisely?"

"Information or skills obtained through personal or direct experience."

"Could it not be argued that as magic and technology advance, knowledge becomes distilled generation by generation, growing clearer with each step? Why continue the tradition?"

Hermione paused, attempting to think of an elegant answer.

"I thought-" she began.

Uncharacteristically impatient, Master Kallas cut her off.

" _Nuance_ , Hermione. As knowledge and magic are handed from generation to generation, each witch and wizard has the opportunity to distill and refine what is already known. However, the key factors in this ongoing process are each _individual_ contribution. Each spell, incantation, wand, magical signature, magical core… it comes from a specific perspective. A person. A unique soul… being… body…" Master Kallas' voice was soothing, seductive even. Hermione found herself nodding, imagining the many lives that had come before her, a family tree unto itself - reaching backward in time, carrying the mystical secrets of their craft into the dark tunnels of history.

"An individual cannot be separated from their body nor their lived experience. This is _vital_ , Hermione." Master Kallas leaned forward slightly, hand grasping the ends of her armrests as her light gaze held Hermione's own like a lifeline. "Our magic holds a direct correlation to the experience of _living_. To mourn a death, to love fiercely, to feel rage, betrayal, admiration, passion, ecstasy… these experiences are not inseparable from magic, rather they are tied to our own understanding of it. They paint our abilities with new colors, new feelings, sensations… they allow us to deepen our craft by ensnaring our powers in the tenuous and thready spaces between our own lives and the lives that have come before us."

"I… understand." And she did.

Somewhat.

It made sense that a rich life would lead to a more well-rounded grasp of magical craft. A Patronus required joyous memories in order to be conjured just as the Unforgivables required the necessary pain or anger as fuel for motivation. Without poignant experiences to draw from, it was reasonable to assume that some avenues of magic would remain inaccessible until lived experiences were obtained.

"As backwards and archaic as the Wizarding world can be, it can also be entirely democratic, liberal, and forward-thinking when addressing avenues of magical inquiry. The founders of Hogwarts, Ilvermorny, and Uagadou were all known for pushing the boundaries of accepted behaviors in their quest for the subtle distinctions and nuances in the many folds between disciplines. Passions have since become more _refined_ … partially due to the implementation of the ISOS, however in contrast to the Muggle world where prejudices are still caught between layers of identity, you can see how witches and wizards are more accepting of individual needs and desires."

Hermione found herself nodding. The Wizarding world was truly a conglomeration of opposites. Just when she thought she understood its many disparate facets, another strange development or historical tidbit reared its head and she was once again cast to the edges of understanding. She wondered if pureblood families ever felt like this as they pored over their shared histories, or if was again the curse of the Muggle-born.

"So you can understand our earlier conversation?" The other witch's expression was difficult to read, but Hermione thought she might have been a bit fearful of Hermione's reaction.

Hell, she didn't even know if she understood her own reaction. _Did_ she understand?

"Do all Masters sleep with their Apprentices?" The question was out before Hermione could stop herself, but Master Kallas simply smiled gently, cheeks dimpling slightly as she tucked her chin.

"No. It is not necessarily encouraged, however it is not uncommon." The elder witch paused, full lips slightly parted as if she were about to continue, but she merely folded her hands and waited. Hermione's mind was still struggling to catch up with the torrent of thoughts currently tumbling through her head.

 _Not encouraged but not uncommon._

What was the lesson in all of this? What was she supposed to take away?

She felt slow and stupid. Something about their line of conversation gave her the niggling feeling that she was missing a key ingredient to the equation. There was a flash of self-doubt and she found herself wondering if it truly was her Muggle upbringing working to her disadvantage as she struggled to read between the lines and grasp whatever it was that Master Kallas seemed to be hinting at. She understood that the Wizarding world took a liberal stance on sexuality. She didn't take issue with that, despite her own, more conservative Muggle upbringing. Perhaps her Master simply wanted her to put her at ease. But no, she had already apologized, hadn't she?

"Then… wha-?"

"Hermione, your attraction to me is as plain as the undeniably enchanting anxiety painting your features at the moment."

Oh.

Master Kallas' typically serene expression shifted into a wide smile as Hermione opened and closed her mouth to little avail, cheeks once again burning as she resisted the urge to palm her face. The other witch shifted, sitting forward in her chair to fix Hermione with a reassuring look.

"I am not asking for you to sleep with me, darling. I'm simply letting you know that I've discerned your feelings and that they are not unwelcome. In fact… I must admit that I am entirely flattered and you can be assured that they are reciprocated." Her Master's face broke into another sunny smile and Hermione felt her heart clench at the contrast between dark silky skin and her brilliantly white teeth.

Dimly, she thought that it was a smile her parents would kill to have participated in.

 _Wait… re-cip-ro-cated?_ Her mind was moving with all the speed of a drowsy flobberworm.

This time, Master Kallas actually laughed as Hermione's face undoubtedly transformed into shock at finally absorbing the message. She was destined to wear her heart on her sleeve. How hopelessly Gryffindor. The other witch tipped her head back and finished off her glass of wine, planting it firmly on the table before rising in a smooth, unhurried movement. She gazed down at Hermione with a soft expression and Hermione felt a flutter of anticipation in her stomach.

"You are a beautiful woman, Hermione. But more than that, you are a compelling witch. Brilliant, selfless, motivated, curious. I can see why Minerva thinks highly of you and why she sent you to me. We both share a… discerning taste." Flashing a mysterious smile, Master Kallas waved a hand over the table and vanished the remaining plates except for Hermione's glass of wine.

Fixing her with a more opaque look, the witch drew herself upwards and Hermione knew that her Master had returned. The intimate nature of their conversation had passed.

"I am going to retire for the evening and leave you to your thoughts. Tomorrow morning I have business in Thessaloniki. In light of today's lesson, I suggest you take the morning to relax… perhaps venture into town or visit Kato Koufonisi if you would like to be alone. I will return around six to join you for an early dinner."

Hermione nodded numbly, rising to bid her Master goodnight. Rather than their customary light hug and double kiss, Master Kallas simply looked at her for a long moment, before trailing a hand along the back of her chair and moving away toward the house.

"Goodnight, darling," she murmured.

"Goodnight, Master."

Hermione waited until soft footsteps retreated inside before slumping back into her chair. Master Kallas was a stickler for etiquette and propriety, perhaps even surpassing Minerva McGonagall in her demand for decorum.

Professor McGonagall.

The thought of her former mentor flooded her with embarrassment again and she promptly reached for her glass and drained the rest of her wine in one go. _Good Godric!_

Hermione sat for a moment, staring up into the now-dark night sky that was alight with stars. Her Master's words seemed to echo in her mind… _I was entirely flattered… Not encouraged, but not uncommon… We both share a… discerning taste…_

She groaned aloud and scrubbed her face in her hands before settling in to think about the facts that had been presented before her.

She was undeniably attracted to her Master. Indisputably, feverishly, lustfully attracted.

 _Merlin..._

Her attraction was reciprocated. _Sweet Salazar!_

All evidence pointed to the fact that a… relationship? Liaison? Fling? A _whatever_ with her Master would only deepen her magical skills. _Hence the lecture on living life to the fullest or what have you…_

Hermione chewed her bottom lip.

 _What if it doesn't work out? What if she hates you? What if you're terrible in bed?_

The fact of the matter was that Hermione Granger had never been with a woman. She barely counted her fumblings with Ron as actual sexual experience, and beyond their few stymied attempts to meet in the weeks after the final battle, there had been no one else. Despite her best intentions and genuine efforts, their short-lived trysts had largely been one-sided and unsatisfying.

Years of sexual tension had fizzled out after a few sweaty, uncomfortable, and entirely _lacking_ encounters that presented Hermione with a startling reality check; Ron Weasley was simply not destined be her match and there was no helping the utterly insurmountable chasm of differences between them that certainly weren't going to be solved by five-minute meetings involving inelegant grunting and some useless humping.

Groaning again, Hermione stood and walked a short ways away from the table where she could look out over the seaside path and toward the rocks below. Her break-up with Ron had actually proceeded with significantly less fireworks than she had imagined. They parted amicably in the summer after the final battle with the heartfelt promise to stay in touch as he and Harry jettisoned off to join the Auror Academy and she departed to Hogwarts to sit her N.E.W.T.S. after a month of self-study.

Hermione sighed and moved to sit on a low rocky ledge that heralded the start of the path. She had earned eleven O's, nine of which were perfect scores. Several Ministry officials had been called in to verify her exams. It was a feat unmatched by anyone, she had been told.

Even Albus Dumbledore.

The rush of excitement that had flooded through her at that achievement was quickly eclipsed by the startling realization that she had no idea what to do next in life. There had been an unfortunate week of listless meandering through the Restricted section in the library before she had been rescued by Professor McGonagall. The elder witch had promptly dragged a protesting Hermione to her office where Hermione had engaged in a brief but ugly meltdown that eventually provided her with the dawning realization that continuing education was a very real _thing_ that one could pursue in the Wizarding world.

And just like that, she had been off again - devouring Minerva's heavy tomes on the histories of Mastery Societies, Minerva's own stories from both her studies and the apprentices she had trained, and consulting a few other professors regarding their own experiences, many of whom she was surprised to discover were still leading experts in their respective fields.

 _Minerva?_

Now where had that thought come from?

Hermione blushed for what felt like the hundredth time that evening as her inner monologue betrayed her yet again. Despite her kind overtures in the aftermath of the war and her undeniably helpful guidance while Hermione had scrambled for purpose, Professor McGonagall had never given her permission to use her first name. While Hermione suspected that the now-Headmistress wouldn't be entirely adverse to the change, it was clearly a gesture that had to be given, not assumed.

The rules of Mastery differed from discipline to discipline and Hermione had been incensed by how little information was available regarding qualifications and advancement. Professor McGonagall had explained that each discipline was sworn to secrecy - the knowledge of each Master passing on to others through a combination of selective study, oral tradition, and _other_ methods that she refused to elucidate.

Hermione had been intensely curious, withholding her questions only when the Headmistress explained that each discipline bound its Masters to confidentiality at penalty of death. Naturally, there were public forums to discuss research and advancements and to disseminate relevant knowledge. But the truly avant-garde forays into new territories were known only to Masters within each given classification. The higher the classification, the more daring the research.

Hermione had asked after Professor McGonagall's own classification, in which she promptly received her first lesson in Mastery etiquette: If you had to ask, you clearly had no business in engaging with the witch or wizard in question as it was quite a rude query unless one was some sort of Ministry official or asking a colleague for assistance on an interdisciplinary project (Hermione had been appropriately mortified).

However, her mentor had kindly intimated that she was a proficient witch indeed, and that perhaps someday they would meet again as collaborators.

 _Zing!_ She had practically heard the arrow strike home, and with that, Professor McGonagall had effortlessly planted a goal in Hermione's heart that would continue to burn brightly long after she had left her office.

Hermione had taken all of two days to research Mastery options before returning to her former Head of House with a list of potential Masters and the polite but pressing request for a letter of recommendation. She had briefly entertained the notion of asking to apprentice under McGonagall herself, however she dismissed the idea in realizing that she needed a taste of the world beyond Hogwarts and to take a step outside of her comfort zone.

She remembered Professor McGonagall's deceptively calm expression as she had accepted Hermione's proffered parchment with the list of witches and wizards she had decided were her top choices of potential Masters. Hermione had waited, fingers drumming on the tops of both knees nervously as Professor McGonagall scanned the list silently, the only sound echoing through the office a rhythmic ticking from an antique grandfather clock in one corner of the room.

She had tried to avoid looking up at the many portraits circling them overhead, namely one with a shock of silver and a twinkle of blue. Several were feigning sleep, though a few she had noticed, were attempting to read over Professor McGonagall's shoulder.

After what seemed like a long while, during which Hermione had already mentally prepared herself to receive the professor's fury of her presumption, pity at Hermione's complete lack of qualifications, or abrupt dismissal, the other witch had sat back and fixed her with a piercing emerald gaze.

"You are certain, Miss Granger, that this is what you truly desire?"

It was not the question she had expected, but a fair one.

"Yes. I feel an affinity for both disciplines. They challenge me in different ways but I am certain I could spend my life delving deeper into one or the either. Ideally, I would choose both."

It was an honest, heartfelt answer if somewhat simple, but apparently it was the one that Professor McGonagall had been searching for.

A smile had spread itself slowly over her usually impassive features and she had shaken her head and chuckled, removing her spectacles and glancing over Hermione's list again with a bemused expression.

All at once, Hermione's perception of Minerva McGonagall had changed.

Gone was her formidable Head of House, her stern Transfiguration professor, the venerable Headmistress of Hogwarts. It was as though a veil had been lifted before her and Hermione's pulse had raced, her breath catching as she suddenly realized the mentor she had admired for close to six years had been replaced by a stunningly beautiful witch.

Without her glasses and with a genuine smile gracing her features, Professor McGonagall was a woman of timeless beauty.

Mentally, Hermione had traced the soft ivory skin and the high, chiseled cheekbones with a fresh sense of awe; rosy lips that she had always perceived to be thin were actually quite full as they framed a set of even, white teeth. Hermione had felt as though she were floating and her thoughts swam as her gaze traveled over a sheen of tightly bound black hair that looked silky in the mid-morning sunshine. But her _eyes._ Hermione had nearly leaned forward and tumbled off her chair to catch the elegant sweeping brows set above long, thick lashes that framed those brilliant, perceptive emerald eyes that were staring directly- _Shit._

Professor McGonagall had regarded her with a quizzical expression and Hermione had flushed, asking her to repeat her question.

Yes, it was her hope to pursue both courses of study at once.

"Miss Granger, while it is highly uncommon to pursue two masteries at the same time, I see you have deduced that there are four such candidates within Europe who would meet your qualifications for a dual apprenticeship in both Transfiguration and Potions. The other option would be, of course, to pursue them separately in succession." Hermione had nodded, ignoring the spike in murmurs of the portraits overhead.

"I suggest these two. Mistress Trenowyth is a good friend of mine with a keen eye for research. We both had the honor of apprenticing under Master Sacheverell. She currently resides in Brussels and earned her Potions Mastery under Master Strangewayes, who consequently taught our own Master Snape. Master Kallas studied under myself as well as Master Abraham in northern Egypt... a nice blend of styles if I do say so myself. I believe the Potions Mastery was earned from Mistress Cunningham, an American witch who is now a Professor Emerita of Ilvermorny."

"Are they not both witches, Professor?" Unexpectedly, Professor McGonagall chuckled.

"Master Kallas has elected to take the title of Master in protest of gender inequalities still prevalent throughout our world. The salutation is of little consequence as she is a talented and... discerning witch regardless."

Something in Professor McGonagall's careful explanation caught Hermione's attention and she had felt an unexpected pang of envy. To be described as talented and discerning by Minerva McGonagall… Well… It seemed as though her decision had been made for her, though Hermione fully intended to send out at least five letters just in case.

"Professor, thank you so much for your assistance. It has truly been a privilege. I... " Here she had paused, wondering if she would come across as sounding too presumptuous, "I look forward to seeing you again… perhaps, one day, as colleagues."

The brilliant smile she earned in response had erased any doubts.

The memory still filled her with an undefinable warmth and Hermione smiled to herself as she finally made her way back towards the white walls of the villa. The thick adobe fairly glowed in the starlight and she waved a hand to extinguish the last lights of the candles from dinner and vanishing her wine glass back to the kitchen.

Opening the blue door quietly so as not to wake her Master, Hermione felt a strange surge of disbelief in realizing that she had actually made it to the very witch whose name she had chosen almost at random from her list of potential Masters.

 _Well, not entirely random…_

With a jolt, she recalled Professor McGonagall's strange phrasing - _talented and discerning…_ And suddenly her master's musical accent overlapping the Scottish lilt - _we both share a discerning taste..._

Hermione froze. The magical world had taught her that there were rarely such things as coincidences. _That had to be innuendo._ Sweet Merlin. Professor McGonagall herself had even alluded to her previous… _whatever_. The conversation with her Master came flooding back. At once, a strange ripple passed over her skin giving her goosebumps and the faint impression of amusement.

Oh.

The bond.

Just when she thought she couldn't possibly tolerate any more embarrassment. Hermione cast an anxious glance down the darkened hallway toward the other end of the villa where her Master's private chambers resided, but it seemed Master Kallas was content to let her be for now. It was time for bed. That was quite enough thoughts for one day.

A short time later, when she sighed in appreciation as her flushed skin met cool sheets, Hermione cast one more sleepy glance over the available facts.

She was undeniably attracted to her Master. _Check._

Her attraction was returned. _Check._

She was most decidedly going to pursue said avenue of attraction. (Why say 'no' when there was the added bonus of deepening her magical abilities?) _Double check._

Her Master… _Dia_ was a lesbian. _Mmmm..._

Here, Hermione felt a dark thrill as she recalled her Master Kallas' recount of her own rich, "lived experiences." The older witch had not gone into sordid details by any means. It had been a matter-of-fact discussion, as simple as discussing the weather, and yet Hermione had latched onto her words like a lifeline. For as Master Kallas had explained her early forays and experiences of coming to terms her burgeoning lesbian identity, Hermione had privately felt as though the other woman were unraveling her own innermost thoughts and desires with uncanny precision.

And _then_ \- Hermione's eyes flew open, staring blankly at the dark ceiling, and she was suddenly wide awake, her body aflame with desire as she recalled her Master's words…

 _"Minerva was the first to truly open my eyes to the joy and potential of life as a lesbian. As skillful and talented as she is as a teacher, you can also imagine is true of her expertise as a lover. She taught me about the importance of anticipation, passion, abandonment, freeing one's primal energies in order to tap into - Hermione, are you well?"_

Their discussion had ended abruptly when the name Minerva had finally connected itself between the misfiring neurons in Hermione's brain. Her Master had been shocked by her surprise and somewhat flustered after Hermione briefly explained how little she actually knew of Professor McGonagall beyond Hogwarts. Master Kallas simply could not believe that Professor McGonagall would have sent Hermione to Naxos without an abridged summary of her own apprenticeship and a few clues as to the nature of relationships and bonds between a Master and Apprentice.

Meanwhile, Hermione was shell-shocked by the realization that the two witches she revered most had moved beyond the professional realm and that they knew each other far more intimately than Hermione could ever imagine. Master Kallas dismissed Hermione after it became apparent that neither of them quite knew how to recover from the conversation - retreating into her study, while Hermione had quickly run off to get some fresh air…

Her heart was thumping loudly as she suddenly imagined her Master and Professor McGonagall in circumstances that mirrored her current situation… the Headmistress patiently instructing her Master in theory and spellwork, heads bowed together over ancient texts, sipping tea in the evenings, rising early in the morning to train…

Hermione fairly groaned at imagining both beautiful witches in skimpy exercise attire, flushed from exertion…

Later returning to darkened chambers, whispering soft endearments to each other, as _Minerva_ patiently enveloped Dia's lithe brown form in a passionate embrace...

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…_

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and willed her heartbeat to return to acceptable resting levels. There was no discernible change in her mind or body which hopefully suggested that her Master had fallen asleep and was blissfully unaware of her mounting desire.

The facts were clear.

Minerva McGonagall had willingly instructed Diamantina Kallas in the art of lesbian lovemaking as part of her Transfiguration Apprenticeship. (And they both had apparently enjoyed it immensely if it was memorable enough to mention in polite conversation decades later, however obscurely covered).

Hermione's heart clenched and she willed her feelings to sink deeply, towards the pit of her stomach. _It's just a crush. It's just a crush. You want Master Kallas. Master Kallas is here..._

But the final fact of the matter was that Hermione Granger had a new goal, pinned deep beneath layers of rational thought, right alongside the goal that eventually saw her returning to greet her esteemed professor as a colleague…

Hermione Granger would bide her time and patiently await the seduction of Minerva McGonagall.

She was also a discerning witch after all.

* * *

 _A/N: This arose out of a different work-in-progress that I have yet to upload... and somewhere along the way I found the idea of a Hermione/Minerva pairing strangely fitting as I have long harbored a love for both intelligent women. It seemed appropriate to explore a credible version of said pairing and to give myself the challenge of creating a world in which they could eventually find each other as equals._

 _We will eventually see the familiar tried and true characters along the way: Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Rolanda Hooch, Molly & Arthur Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and several others - all Harry Potter characters and concepts with in the 'verse belong to J.K. Rowling, while this story and a few original characters/ideas come from my imagination and belong to me._

 _It will take time for the entire tale to develop and prepare yourself for a long arc in regards to the HG/MM storyline. Please keep in mind that as the story progresses, adult themes will crop up, the least of which will include same sex pairings._

 _Overall, it will follow the canon through the books, minus the last chapter/epilogue of Book 7. I've tried to take details from Pottermore whenever possible, and_ _I do derive great joy from taking time to research places, ideas, concepts, so do not anticipate quick updates. I apologize to the more voracious readers for sporadic breaks - my personal life and work do not adhere to a 9 to 5 schedule and some weeks may be more prolific than others._

 _Thank you in advance for your feedback - this is my second attempt at fanfic and first upload, so I look forward to any comments/critiques should you feel so inclined. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you so much for the encouragement! I apologize, this is a rather short chapter... but events are well on their way to progressing. Hang tight!_

* * *

Despite the whirling of thoughts that had plagued her before bed, Hermione awoke earlier than she expected the next morning. The gauzy white curtains fluttering near her window were just beginning to gain a tinge of rose. Casting a quick tempus charm, she flopped back against her pillow at realizing it was only a little before six.

In the distance she could hear the quiet sounds of her Master working in the kitchen. Even though Stelios and Eleni were more than happy and capable of preparing meals, Master Kallas insisted upon preparing her own breakfast three days out of the week, arguing that even House Elves deserved to sleep in and that she quite enjoyed the opportunity to prepare things from scratch.

It was one of many small quirks that Hermione appreciated about the witch, and she snuggled back down into her cozy cocoon of blankets, fiddling with a stray thread, and letting the background noise soothe her into a meditative haze.

Part of her wanted to rise and putter around the kitchen with her Master before she left for the Mainland, but another part was happy to remain where she was. It wasn't entirely unheard of for Master Kallas to give her a day off, but usually breaks were given following an intensive period within her studies and training.

Sleepily, Hermione recalled the past several days which had been a blend of different tasks - largely revisions. Aside from upping the intensity of her morning circuits, it seemed, for now, that the bulk of her new knowledge had been attained and Master Kallas had been leaving her more and more openings to consider her final theses.

Flipping to lie on her side, Hermione looked across her room where a thin strip of sunlight was beginning to grow in size. The sounds from the kitchen had ceased which either meant that her Master had departed or was sitting quietly at the informal table, reading through her correspondence with a cup of (in Hermione's opinion), disgustingly strong espresso.

It seemed surreal that so little and so much time had passed since her departure from Great Britain and how familiar and comfortable she felt about her new life on Naxos.

Aside from the House Elves and her Master, Hermione rarely engaged with anyone outside of the villa. There was the occasional venture into the Muggle villages nearby, and Master Kallas' carefully arranged visits to Athens, Thessaloniki, and the neighboring islands, but for the most part her time was spent in solitude. Her studies were all encompassing and the quiet nature of the villa and the island allowed her to immerse herself in both disciplines with absolute focus.

Briefly, Hermione mulled over the events of the previous day and found herself thinking back to her memory of the conversation with Professor McGonagall in the Head's office. She tried to imagine having chosen a different Master and could not fathom it.

Hermione felt as though she were standing on the edge of a cliff - just a few more feet and she would be free to fall headfirst into the innumerable possibilities and experiences that life had to offer.

She was so _close_.

Master Kallas was demanding in a way that stretched well beyond the expectations of either Potions or Transfiguration as singular disciplines, and Hermione adored her for it. While she was certain other Masters would have given her the knowledge she had initially sought, there was an all-encompassing approach to Kallas' style that Hermione hadn't even known she craved.

It was no longer enough to _know_ a lot.

Master Kallas expected a well-rounded appreciation and understanding of what felt like _everything_ to Hermione. Potions and Transfiguration came with their respective histories, traditions, and cultures, and her master made sure to contextualize both through careful examination of Wizarding and Muggle worlds alike.

As a result Hermione had been delving into Muggle books on astrophysics and quantum theory alongside her Transfiguration texts, and into the exclusive avenues of mixology, gastronomy, and culinary arts alongside Potions. There was a sense of creativity to her work that felt wholesome - like she was fitting intricate pieces of a puzzle together and the final image was the interconnected potential of her future.

Master Kallas ensured that Hermione attained the foundational principles that would serve as the basis for developing her own perspectives in each discipline, but she also routinely challenged Hermione to think beyond the texts - forcing her to question elemental laws and concepts as soon as she had memorized them - insisting it was imperative that she learn to question everything and that the only means of creating change was to constantly challenge existing preconceptions.

It was exhausting, exhilarating, and slightly terrifying.

Hermione couldn't get enough. She felt herself on the edge of exponential growth and it was intoxicating.

At Hogwarts she had been at the top of her class, lauded by her professors and peers alike for her skill and intellect. The Prophet had heralded her as the "brightest witch of her age," but somehow she had never seen herself through the same eyes.

She worked hard, yes. But it was still _work_.

Her mind easily absorbed new information but her greatest assets were her patience and discipline. On some level, Hermione had trouble believing that she was really so different; if others had just applied themselves with single-minded zeal, she was convinced that they could easily accomplish the same feats.

Regardless, while Hogwarts had been challenging at times, it was nothing compared to what she was experiencing now. Her new life felt like a constant whirlwind of information, endlessly replenished, and she yearned to keep it moving.

By some unknown stroke of providence, she had been graced with an incredible opportunity and she was ready to grab it with both hands.

Suddenly invigorated, Hermione sat up, throwing off her light cotton blankets and quietly padding to the bathroom. Peering into the mirror, she quickly washed her face with cool water as she considered her options.

She had a full free day to do whatever she wanted. The world was her oyster.

 _*CRASH!*_

Jumping in response to the sound of breaking glass, Hermione skidded back into her room, summoning her wand wordlessly. In the distance she heard a string of curses, a smattering of angry Greek, and the sound of running footsteps and a slamming door. Listening intently for signs of trouble, she was about to open the door and call down the hallway when a large shadow suddenly leapt into view behind the curtains in her window.

Crossing the room in a few short strides, she parted the light fabric with a hand and found herself face to face with a set of large yellow eyes and a furry black face covered in a milky white substance. She felt her Master's bond ripple with displeasure.

Despite her surprise, Hermione suppressed a giggle.

"Schlif! You bad boy! Did you get into Master Kallas' yogurt again?"

The large cat gave her what appeared to be a very smug expression before stepping down from the sill and settling into the window box just outside. There had been a rather large dent in the red gardenias already, and Schlif reclined onto the flowers quite comfortably before beginning to wash his face with a heavy paw.

Hermione chuckled and gave him an affectionate scratch behind an ear. Eleni would be furious about her flowers later, but she couldn't bring herself to chase him away. The cat was a menace around the villa, listening to no one save for Hermione - and even then without any rhyme or reason.

"One of these days they're going to catch you, agori mou."

There was a soft sigh in response as Schlif clearly could not be bothered to care. With a small sniff of amusement, Hermione left him to his bath.

Her dear Crookshanks had been a casualty of the Final Battle and while Schlif looked nothing like her squashed-face feline, Hermione harbored a soft spot for the mischievous monster as she suspected that one of his parents might've also been a Kneazle. Those yellow eyes possessed too much intelligence to be innocent and he had an uncanny knack for finding obscure escape routes in the face of certain entrapment.

Pulling open her wardrobe, Hermione decided to begin her morning with a swim.

As a child she had been a proficient swimmer, even joining the girl's swim team for a season before Hogwarts had taken her away. Her parents kept a vacation home in the French Riviera, but as her vacations became shorter and shorter with each successive year at Hogwarts, she hadn't had time to spend on such frivolities.

Naxos had been the perfect opportunity to rediscover her love of the water. Combined with her physical training regimen, it was quickly becoming a vital part of her routine that left her both physically and mentally relaxed.

The sound of light, musical laughter reached her ears and Hermione's eyes narrowed.

Her body rippled with her Master's amusement and the immediate spark of curiosity it ignited served to remind her of the previous evening's discussion.

The tingling feeling began to dissipate and Hermione resumed the perusal of her wardrobe, suddenly inspired to look for a flash of color - _Ah! Yes!_

The Naxos villa was Secret Kept, and though it had taken her a bit of time, Jean Granger was never one to back down from a good riddle. Hermione's mother had eventually deduced that her daughter was studying somewhere in the Greek islands and had consequently sent a package containing a few clothing items that had made Hermione blush. She had buried the items at the bottom of her wardrobe, certain there would never be an opportunity to wear such... revealing things.

Pulling out the red swimsuit, she pulled off the small note.

 _This should turn a few heads, don't you think? Wear it well!  
Love you!  
Xoxo,  
Mum_

Yes, Mum.

Yes, it would.

Quickly pulling it on, Hermione took a moment in the full-length mirror to appreciate the suit's suggestive nature. A brilliant shade of garnet, the suit was a full-piece, but had tasteful cut-outs on the sides and a deep-V in the middle that made it more daring an item than Hermione would have ever purchased for herself. It was made from a beautiful satin-y material that clung to her like a second skin, showing off her new athletic body and bronze tan while still allowing her to move comfortably.

She had intended to save it for a private swim at some point, but the brash lioness within longed to see her Master's reaction. Especially after last night.

It was a simple thing.

Childish, really.

But Hermione had a difficult time believing her Master's words were true. " _You are a beautiful woman, Hermione. But more than that, you are a compelling witch. Brilliant, selfless, motivated, curious. I can see why Minerva thinks highly of you…"_

Turning side to side, Hermione gave herself another once over before casting another tempus.

Six-thirty.

She heaved a sigh and paced a quick circuit around her room, hands on hips, fingers drumming while she thought. It was a swimsuit. She was going to train. Who cared what Master Kallas thought anyway?

Hermione arrived back to the mirror and looked at her reflection again. For a moment, she considered tearing the suit off, donning her usual conservative speedo and marching straight down to the sea. There was work to do. Things to learn. A day to seize.

But she couldn't.

Who cared what Master Kallas thought? Well, apparently Hermione Granger did.

"Get a grip! Are you a Gryffindor or not?" she hissed.

While she wasn't completely objective, the irate woman in the mirror was indeed striking. The deep red set off her tan nicely and the V revealed a hint of her toned abdominals and the subtle outline of both breasts without appearing tasteless. The sides were high cut, making her toned legs appear long and willowy while highlighting the gentle curves of her bum.

Hermione took a moment to shake out her curls, flipping her head and tossing both hands through to remove the tangles from sleep. When she surveyed herself once more, her cheeks were flushed and her hair settled around her face like a lion's mane. Gryffindor indeed.

 _Well?_

Turning, Hermione grabbed a fluffy white towel off the door to her bathroom, snapping it in her haste to leave.

It was time to bid her Master a good morning.

* * *

Greek translation:

 _agori mou_ \- my boy


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: I apologize for the break! I will definitely have a few more updates coming soon. Slowly, events will begin to weave themselves together with a bit more clarity, but for now, we get to explore a few parallel perspectives. Thanks for your patience!_**

* * *

Kingsley's owl arrived early.

Quite early, in fact, as Minerva had not yet donned her robes when the light tapping began on the windowpane.

Frowning slightly, she set aside her tea and rose to let the bird in, wincing slightly as a familiar pain caught her sternum. The large owl ruffled her feathers appreciatively as she stepped in out of the cold, accepting a niblet from Minerva before offering the scroll on her leg.

Moving to read the rolled parchment, Minerva's thoughts of a productive day rapidly dissolved as she absorbed the Minister's short missive. Letting the note fall for a moment, she took a moment to gaze out over the grounds.

A light dusting of snow coated the banks of the lake, glittering in the early morning light as the sun was just barely beginning to rise. A silvery sheen of mist hung over the dark waters, glowing gold in places as the first rays broke over the tips of the Forbidden Forest.

It was an utterly enchanting and peaceful sight.

 _Difficult to believe that there could be unrest elsewhere in the world_ , Minerva thought ruefully.

Opening the window again, Kingsley's owl hooted gently, as if apologizing for relaying the somber news. She waited until the owl disappeared around a parapet before striding back to her sitting area and summoning a fresh parchment.

"Ptolemy," she said quietly. A soft _pop!_ to her left indicated the House Elf's entrance, and she continued writing without looking up as her old friend replied with his familiar gravelly tones.

"Good morning, Headmistress."

She sealed the letter and lifted her gaze. Ptolemy greeted her with a small nod of the head and took the proffered parchment without question.

"Good morning, Ptolemy. I apologize for summoning you away before breakfast. Please relay this note to Filius and alert him that I will be at the Ministry until further notice. I will find time to speak with him further upon my return. I would also ask that you cancel my appointments for this afternoon and reschedule them for later this week."

The Elf nodded, gazing at her with an impassive expression. Minerva paused, attempting to remember the full list of names on her agenda. Green eyes narrowing, she rose and swept over to her bedside table and opened a heavy leather bound calendar.

Running a thin finger over her appointments, she quickly added, "Ah, if Merryweather gives you any trouble, please inform her that I would be happy to make a visit on Friday at her convenience."

She glanced over her shoulder to see Ptolemy nodding.

"Very good. Will youse be taking breakfast before leaving?"

"No. Thank you. Just a biscuit or two in the next few minutes should you have some available," she replied, already moving toward the bathroom. Ptolemy gave a small bow.

"I'se having Sylvie send some up," he called.

"Thank you," she said. Hearing the snap of his departure, she began to untangle her hair from its heavy braid as she crossed into the large personal bath. A flick of her hand had the shower running, and another gesture divested her of her clothing which folded itself neatly and appeared in the hamper near the door.

Sighing, Minerva leaned against the cool marble of the bathroom wall, mentally cataloguing the aches and pains throughout her body. She would have to ask Sylvie to bring a pain potion for later.

Stepping into the large shower, she let the pressure of the water pound into her aching shoulders for a moment. Wincing slightly as she turned, Minerva sighed and simply summoned the bottle of soap she needed rather than making the arduous bend to grab it.

She had stayed up too late again. Her body felt stiff and sluggish.

Turning her thoughts toward the present conflict at hand, Minerva began extrapolating several viable scenarios in her head while simultaneously pitting them against her duties as Head of Hogwarts. The next few weeks would be rough at best. _The inquiries alone…_

Her jaw clenched at the thought.

Minerva allowed herself a groan as her long fingers began massaging her aching scalp. Her hair fell about her shoulders in thick ropes as she lathered the citrus-ginger shampoo through her heavy locks. If only this could have waited another week.

Filius was an excellent Deputy but there was only so much she could delegate. They would both be working overtime to cover what now promised to be a long haul until the holidays.

The aftermath of the war was still reverberating through the Wizarding community. Enrollment was still down despite the wave of government subsidies and charitable donations that had helped repair major damages to the castle and resupply educational materials.

Many families were still reeling from their losses which placed a heavy burden on elder children, many of whom were pressed to leave their schooling and find jobs in the workforce. Other families had relocated and left the country, and others still were simply choosing to spend more time together by exercising their right to private tutors.

They were all still healing.

Sighing, Minerva stepped out of the shower and into the soft embrace of cream-colored towels charmed into wrapping themselves around her hair and body. Her shoulders felt marginally better, but as she dried herself and summoned her robes for the day, she knew it would only be a matter of hours before they stiffened again with a resurgence of tension.

She cast a tempus and saw that it was nearing six. Her usual morning ablutions would have to wait. Quickly stepping into her silken undergarments, she cast a drying charm on her hair and moved her fingers in a slightly different gesture than her usual.

Her thick hair parted itself on one side and wrapped itself into an elegant twist on the back of her head, slightly higher than her usual low bun, drawing her features upward and giving her the illusion of more height.

She could use every advantage today.

She slid several pins into the twist to keep it in place and cast a glance over her reflection, one long hand coming to her throat to test the skin and tone. Her cheeks looked more gaunt than usual and the dark circles under her eyes seemed more pronounced. Poppy would be having it out with her soon enough. Pursing her lips Minerva cast her usual glamours and moved on to her robes.

Rest was not a luxury she could afford.

Just as she was donning her innermost set of light silk robes, Minerva felt the wards shift as someone began ascending the stairs toward her office. _Filius,_ she thought with a half-smile.

He was too good to her.

She knew her friend would have read between the lines of her short note, though she hadn't anticipated meeting him until after her visit to the Ministry. Working quickly, she finished sealing the closure on high-necked emerald robes, charming the heavier black outer layer to follow her as she swept back into her private rooms.

She waved a hand and sent a charm to her office, letting Filius know she would be with him shortly.

Stepping in front of the full-length mirror at her wardrobe, Minerva assessed her reflection and pinned her brooch in place at her neck as she slipped into heeled boots that tied themselves effortlessly.

The color reversal of her robes was deliberate. Her usual emerald was visible only at the front of her skirts, the high neck where her brooch was fastened, and at the graceful sleeves which had fitted themselves like gloves, each ending at a point on the backs of her hands. The silken outer layer of black was more fitted than her usual teaching robes, aside from gracefully draped sleeves that billowed slightly as she moved, giving her an added lift and formidable air.

Minerva summoned her hat and transformed it slightly, replacing the usual pheasant feathers with a spray of black plumes that had an iridescent sheen of blue and green. Placing it on her head, she tilted it forward and to one side so that it lengthened her neck attractively.

Sensing that Filius had ordered tea for the both of them, she summoned her wand and appointment book and swept into her office without a backwards glance.

"Headmistress." Filius' greeting was curt as he watched her enter the office and settle in behind her desk. The shorter wizard was already stirring a cup of steaming tea, the cheerful gold-rimmed cup seemingly at odds with his unusually stoic posture. Ever the testament to his house, Minerva knew he understood the situation was dire at best.

"Professor." She replied, helping herself to her own cup and moving a few letters out of reach. A gentleman at heart, Filius waited patiently until she settled back her chair, meeting him with a level gaze.

"I take it something truly significant has occurred?" He asked evenly.

"More like several something's, Filius," she said quietly. Her friend's blue eyes widened slightly and she held up a palm to forestall his questions. "I am not yet at liberty to say, though I have little doubt that the papers will be publishing the news by nightfall."

Filius nodded, looking somewhat pale. Until they received more information, it would simply be a waiting game. They both sat in silence for a moment, each lost in his or her own thoughts, sipping their tea quietly.

The ramifications of the current situation were unclear, though Kingsley's note had seemed brusque in her opinion, which either meant that events were still unfolding and he too was waiting for answers, or that the Minister saw fit to inform her in person lest critical information be leaked.

The latter did not bode well.

"Do you know when we should anticipate the summons?" Filius' quiet question broke through her darker thoughts and she lifted her chin.

"I cannot say, though once containment efforts have been enacted, I daresay we shall have to create our own contingency plans for the remainder of the week and possibly into next," she replied.

Filius nodded solemnly, vanishing his tea with a gentle flick and rising slowly.

"I shall inform the other Heads of House and begin creating a rotation for covering classes and rounds. I will also begin revising our plans through the holidays, reviewing critical repairs that have yet to be made and scaling back unnecessary items that can be shelved until after the new year."

Minerva gave a short nod of appreciation, thankful that her Deputy's Ravenclaw eye had yet again seen straight to the heart of the matter and read her unspoken wishes.

He sent her a reassuring smile and dismissed himself. Minerva let her focus slip down into her teacup as she collected her thoughts for the coming meeting. Depending on the locations of the events… _Hogwarts might yet avoid involvement_ , she thought hopefully.

Realistically, she knew that such hopes were fleeting at best.

"There has been no indication of…" Filius had paused near the door, his question trailing off as he gave her a searching look. Minerva rose gracefully, setting down her tea and allowing her fingertips to trail along the surface of her desk. She shook her head apologetically.

"At the moment, I know little more than you, my friend. When I return from the Ministry, you shall be the first to know."

Filius nodded, stepping back and giving her a small bow.

"Very well. Good morning to you, Headmistress."

The blue robes of her friend disappeared in a gentle swish. The heavy doors resonated as they shut with a firm click, and the room once again fell into stillness. The quiet rhythm of the antique grandfather clock was the only sound uttered for a moment.

"That remains to be seen," Minerva replied softly.

At once there was a flurry of activity on the walls as the portraits began speaking quietly with one another in worried tones. A few, she noted, were absent completely - likely doing their own reconnaissance into matters.

"Headmistress. Phineas reports that Kingsley is currently meeting with Cornelius Fudge, but anticipates that their briefing should conclude within the next fifteen minutes."

"Very well, you may tell Phineas to give Kingsley my sign. I will be over shortly." She waved a hand toward Dilys who disappeared.

"Headmistress, Madam Hesperia would like to schedule a floo-call at your earliest convenience."

Minerva's eyebrow rose at that. She hadn't heard from the professor emerita of Ilvermorny in, what? Decades? There were no such things as coincidences and she inclined her head toward Headmistress Castledine's portrait.

"Thank you, Adelpha. Please let her know I will return to her within the day." The elegant silver haired witch nodded, her sapphire earrings twinkling before she vanished.

Checking the time she saw it was a little before six-thirty. Minerva nibbled lightly on one of the biscuits Sylvie had left, forcing herself to go through the motion of eating even though she had no appetite. She had barely finished the one when the overlapping commentary began.

"Most disturbing news indeed, I daresay- "

"The Yanks were the last. Upstart bunch of fools anyway-"

"-would do no such thing. The security measures for the convocation alone -"

"- lasted months. Merlin, the paperwork was a nightmare!"

"Please." Minerva held up a hand and gave a sweeping look about the room. "It is foolish to surmise the gravity of the situation as it is still unfolding. I ask you all to withhold your commentary and questions until we receive more information. I remind you all of your duty to the welfare of the school and its students… they will not be served by idle guesswork."

There were a few sheepish looks and begrudging mutters as the portraits fell silent. Minerva avoided looking to the far left where she knew the familiar bright gaze of her friend watched in sympathy. Vanishing her tea and biscuits decisively, she rose and moved out from her desk.

Summoning her heavy winter cloak, she quickly fastened the ornate silver closures with a gesture and donned a pair of elegant black gloves.

"I shall return as soon as possible," Mineva said. "Please relay emergency information through either Phineas or Filius."

Stepping towards the fireplace, she conjured a fire and threw in a handful of Floo powder. The flames glowed a brilliant green and just as she was about to step off the threshold, a quiet voice behind her made her pause.

"Be well, Minerva. Sylvie will be ready with a pain potion upon your return."

"Thank you, Albus," Minerva replied quietly, turning to make eye contact with her old friend. Her heart clenched as she met his blue gaze with her emerald one, wishing for the millionth time that it were him crossing the threshold and not her.

Regretfully, she pushed such useless thoughts to the side and smoothed her features. The past remained in the past and it was time to see to the safety and security of the school.

Without a word, the Headmistress of Hogwarts stepped forward and vanished.

* * *

 _As always, reviews and feedback are appreciated! :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thank you to those who have offered their lovely feedback and encouragement!_

* * *

Eleni sat at the informal kitchen table with Dia, sipping a small cup of espresso and reading the Arts section in Ekathimerini. The hour was still early and she had risen to find the witch preparing a simple breakfast of yogurt, fresh fruit and honey which she had politely declined on sharing. Their usual morning pleasantries were exchanged and then the two of them had settled at the table with their respective work, each lapsing into comfortable silence.

Across the table, her friend seemed slightly distracted this morning, though Eleni had yet to put a finger on it. The witch sat quietly, patiently working her way through a large mound of correspondence, dressed more formally than usual on account of her impending visit to the apothecary.

She had been busy balancing her time between instructing Hermione and working on her own research - two things that Eleni knew her friend enjoyed immensely, but Ana had been insistent that her aunt review the apothecary's tax records before the end of the month.

 _A wise move_ , Eleni thought approvingly, letting her mind stray from the arts review. Though the younger witch may have proven herself a natural hand at running her aunt's business, that she still sought Dia's keen eye meant that she hadn't become cocky or complacent in her development.

Assuredly, everything was in order according to Ana's incredibly exacting standards, but it never hurt to have a seasoned opinion. The younger witch had done quite well for herself to everyone's collective surprise and Eleni knew that her friend was quite proud of her niece.

Across the table, Dia's focus slid to one side - staring into space between the edge of the table and white wood floors. Eleni frowned slightly. It was the fourth time in the last ten minutes that the witch had lost her typically imperturbable focus.

"Knut for your thoughts," Eleni said quietly, not looking up from her paper.

Silence.

Looking up, she saw Dia remained oblivious, eyes still staring vacantly beyond her pile of letters.

Eleni let the paper drop, smoothing it on the tabletop with both hands. The movement startled her friend who glanced at her as if suddenly realizing she was there.

For a split second, an expression of dismay flitted across Dia's features before she sat back in her chair, a gentle smile sliding into place as she smoothed the dark blue fabric of her outer robes with a flourish.

Dia sighed quietly and waved a hand at Eleni's unspoken question. "It's nothing, darling. I was simply thinking ahead to how Ana plans to develop the business in the next year. She mentioned a meeting with Stavros Papaioannou to discuss a few new retailers in Crete."

Eleni gave her a long look, inviting her to say more, but Dia gave a thin smile before returning her attention to her work. _Hmm._

It was a reasonable cover, but a cover nonetheless. It was unlike Dia to be obtuse in her words. More unlike her to keep counsel without giving reason. Most curious.

Eventually Eleni permitted herself to read a short interview with the new violinist stepping up to first chair in the Athens Symphony Orchestra while she considered how to respond to the evasion. Dia had returned to writing, her quill making quiet scratching sounds on the parchment as she penned a reply in distinctive emerald ink.

Finishing the interview, Eleni sniffed lightly and flipped the page. Stelios had already predicted the promotion a month prior. The new violinist seemed a bit young in her opinion, but his enthusiasm was contagious.

Eleni glanced back at her friend casually and saw the witch had again drifted away.

"Dia. It is clear to me that neither Ana nor the apothecary's investments are what draw your attention." She let her paper drop just enough to give her friend a sideways look. "Now are you going to avoid the question again or tell me what's truly on your mind?"

Dia's quill paused and she merely lifted her eyes to gaze at Eleni quietly. A slight narrowing of her lips was the only indication of her disapproval.

"Perhaps I prefer to keep my thoughts my own for the moment," she replied archly. They stared at each other for a long moment and eventually Eleni gave a nod of acquiescence.

 _Very well._

They both returned to their activities while she began considering what could be plaguing her close friend.

They had known each other their entire lives.

In many ways, despite their odd relationship, Dia felt like a family member. While there were parts of the witch's life she had not been privy to and parts she knew were too painful for the witch to dredge up, for the most part, Dia confided in her as she had her sister.

 _What could be more sisterly than attempting to keep information to oneself?_

Eleni sniffed softly to herself.

Humans. So roundabout in their behavior and obtuse in their emotions.

She watched her friend carefully out of the corner of her eye, measuring her movements, the stiff carriage of her shoulders, shortness of her quill strokes. Dia was anxious. A lightbulb seemed to go off in her mind.

 _It's something personal._

Brow furrowed, Eleni quickly reviewed the last several weeks. Dia had not made many trips away from Naxos and all but one had been on business terms, meaning she would not have had opportunity to interact with someone new.

Eleni threw a glance over the parchments on the table and quickly deduced that she hadn't been engaging in correspondence by post. Which meant that whatever was causing her anxiety had to do with someone within her immediate circles.

Eyes narrowing, Eleni began running through several possibilities. Surely not Hermione. The two witches shared a professional relationship steeped in knowledge and respect. Eleni knew the younger witch held her master in the highest esteem and had been too absorbed in her own research to cause trouble.

Besides, the true disagreements wouldn't surface until the witch's second or third level classifications when the boundaries between master and apprentice began to blur. At this point, any disagreement between them would be theory-based which wouldn't have rattled Dia to such an extreme.

Family was also out of the question. Yiayia was the logical culprit, but the elder witch had been in Egypt for the majority of the past month. Ana would have been the next guess, but Dia was meeting with her today, ruling out any sort of tantrum that the young witch could have incited. The rest of the family was also unlikely. And it wouldn't have been a falling out with a close friend. If there had been a misunderstanding with anyone, Dia would have been irate, not distracted.

 _Who then…?_

Uncertain, Eleni shifted, lifting her paper slightly to look at her friend over the top edge surreptitiously. Dia continued writing in short, jumpy quill strokes, her usually elegant posture somewhat tense through her neck causing her to fold in upon herself slightly. It was a subtle hint at insecurity.

 _Well, well, well…._ Eleni thought slowly, a small smirk spreading out on her features. _It has been awhile, kopelia mou..._

At once, her friend huffed and shot her an exasperated look.

"Merlin's beard, Eleni!"

Hermione's colorful language seemed to be rubbing off on her Master. Eleni quashed the bubble of amusement at that and gave Dia an innocent look as she lowered her paper.

"I didn't say anything!"

"I can see you watching me!" Dia pushed her inkwell aside as she glared and crossed one arm on the table in front of her before tossing an open hand in her direction. Eleni sat back smoothly as Dia broke her gaze, fiddling with a few more letters and parchments, muttering under her breath in Greek as she shifted her things and created space in front of her.

Eventually there was a pause and Dia sighed. Settling back in her chair, she fixed Eleni with a pained expression.

 _Oh, this is something good._

"If you _must_ know, I had a rather surprising discussion yesterday with -"

*CRASH!*

They both jumped at the sound of breaking glass, Eleni turned to see Schlif's large furry tail waving gently on the counter. It was certainly a mark of Dia's distraction that she hadn't noticed the cat earlier.

"Schlif! Get _out!_ " Dia was on her feet at once, hand outstretched, the wicker basket of fruit on the counter already morphing into a trap for the confounded feline. Eleni snapped her fingers, but somehow the cat moved quicker than the both of them.

WIth utter ease, he evaded the flurry of magic - dodging bright flashes of spellwork with uncanny agility, eventually making a zig-zagged dash for the door that Dia followed, slinging one last stinging hex in frustration.

Eleni raised an eyebrow as Dia lapsed into Greek, flinging the door shut with a slam.

" _That confounded monster! Heaven knows why I promised my sister I would look after him! Damned menace!"_

Eleni repaired the broken bowl with a snap and banished the yogurt to the trash with another gesture. It was Dia's fault for leaving it out anyway. She would have her bring more from Thessaloniki.

"Leave the cat, Dia. As always, we are fighting a losing battle." Eleni said, slipping back into her chair calmly and smoothing her skirt. Dia glared and stalked back to the counter, transforming the now-repaired bowl and adding an elegant strip of Greek key around the outer edge. Eleni frowned at the gratuitous bit of magic.

"Kopelia, peace. What disturbs you has nothing to do with Schlif." She said quietly, extending a hand toward Dia's empty chair.

The witch's face fell slightly and she paused a moment before floating back to her seat as if suddenly untethered. Sitting, she planted both hands on the table deliberately as if steadying herself, a somewhat stricken look upon her face.

For a long moment, neither of them said a word. Eleni watched her friend carefully, accustomed to remaining patient whenever it came to Dia's personal matters. After a minute or so, the witch took a deep breath, lifting troubled eyes to meet Eleni's.

"Eleni… I've made a mistake. As usual, too much fire and water, not enough earth," she said softly. Eleni's brow furrowed and she leaned forward.

"You spend much of your time acting as the earth for others, Dia. Sometimes you must allow yourself the follow the impulse of other elements," she replied gently.

The witch sighed and slumped forward, planting both elbows on the table and letting her head fall forward into her hands. Several dark curls sprang forth from her loose chignon. Eleni felt a niggle of concern. Folding her paper for the moment, she pushed it to one side and stared at her friend.

Dia rarely permitted herself moments of such informal behavior in public spaces, even within her own home. Within the privacy of her own rooms, Eleni knew that the woman was much more relaxed and playful than she let on to others, however she firmly adhered to proper etiquette unless extraordinarily tired or unsettled.

"I fear I may have been too rash in my words and actions." Dia's soft voice was somewhat muffled as she continued to speak down toward the table. Eleni's heart softened.

She had no idea what event her friend referenced, and while she worked to put answers to the many questions bubbling in her mind, Eleni elected to go along with the witch's vague statements as best she could.

"For years you have tempered your weather, Dia. You deserve moments of release just as the rest of us do. Water does well within boundaries but it is still a force of nature. You must let it flow and stay its own course, lest it become a dam and threaten to break from pressure."

Dia lifted her head and shook it slowly.

"This is different..." she began miserably, but Eleni held up a hand and cocked an ear at hearing a distant door open. Immediately, Dia sat back and smoothed her robes, assuming her usual serene expression. Eleni smiled at her friend reassuringly.

"Hold your thoughts. We shall speak again soon," she patted the table before lifting her voice and gesturing dramatically towards the approaching footsteps, "For now, room, witch! Here comes Hermione!"

They both turned as the apprentice glided down the hallway. Immediately, Eleni fought to keep a neutral expression at seeing the younger witch's atypical attire.

A fluffy towel slung under one arm, Hermione sauntered into the large kitchen, chestnut curls wild about her face and eyes bright and fresh. The young witch wore a dazzling one-piece swimsuit that clung to her lithe form, revealing more skin than Eleni had ever seen her dare. The deep jewel-toned red seemed luminous even in the natural light of the kitchen, but what surprised Eleni was the woman's confidence.

While humans and elves differed greatly in their conceptions of beauty, intellectually Eleni knew that both witches under her charge were considered extremely attractive. _Exotic_ was a word frequently used to describe Dia, who had worked hard to cultivate her air of elegance and mystique.

She had heard others on Naxos refer to Hermione as _classically_ beautiful, though the younger woman still retained a tentative air about her that spoke to her unfurling acceptance of others' perceptions. This morning however, the apprentice displayed a casual bravado that Eleni hadn't even know she possessed.

Eleni gave a dutiful nod as Hermione folded herself gently into a proper greeting before them, her flushed cheeks momentarily hidden by her curtain of curls as she bowed her head demurely.

"Good morning, Master. Eleni."

The witch rose gracefully out of her curtsy and Eleni was surprised when Dia simply returned the greeting with a stiff nod of her own. There was an awkward pause as Hermione waited for her master's acknowledgement.

After a moment Dia cleared her throat lightly and shifted a few items on the table before her.

"A swim is in order, I see?"

Eleni pretended to return to her paper, while watching Dia out of the corner of her eye. Her friend kept her eyes lowered, one hand relaxedly attending to her coffee cup.

"I thought to begin my day with an hour or so in the sea before going on a short hike," Hermione replied smoothly, sliding past her master's awkward overture before beginning to move toward the refrigerator. _The young witch learns quickly._

Eleni was impressed at that the young woman discerned the non-verbal subtleties between formal and informal address so easily. Usually those skills were developed during an apprentices' second classification as they prepared for their formal debut into society.

"Eleni, if you need any help later, I was thinking of spending some time revising my knife cuts," Hermione called. The halo of dark curls had disappeared behind the refrigerator door. Before Eleni could reply, Dia cut in.

"I do remember permitting my apprentice a respite from her studies," Dia said quietly, long fingers wrapping around her cup and pulling it toward her as she gazed down into it. It was a deceptively calm gesture.

Eleni looked at her friend openly, unable to read her expression. It seemed like the beginnings of disapproval.

 _What is happening here?_

Eleni looked back at Hermione who was still rummaging for breakfast unconcernedly. Dia took a sip of coffee, a slight aura of tension about her. She seemed to be avoiding looking at her apprentice.

Eleni began to feel as though she were watching a ping-pong match.

Hermione emerged from behind the refrigerator holding a fresh peach. Eleni's eyes narrowed as the young witch took her time in answering the comment, choosing to inhale the fruit's scent deeply. The younger witch pinned Dia with a direct look before biting into it, reclining against the counter as she chewed thoughtfully. She crossed one long leg over the other and stared at her master.

"Perhaps my pleasures are best served in action," she finally said. Suddenly feeling as though she were an outsider in the room, Eleni saw her friend's jaw twitch just as her light green eyes darkened and subtly raked over Hermione's languid form.

The puzzle pieces clicked into place.

Smoothly, Eleni rose from the table and vanished her paper with a snap.

"I will begin preparing both lunch and dinner around half past eleven," she said neutrally, looking at Hermione whose cheeks looked slightly flushed. "You may assist me then, should it please you."

The young woman nodded her affirmative. Off to her right, Eleni felt Dia tense.

"I apologize for the abrupt exit, but I've just remembered I must confer with Stelios before he leaves for Athens this morning. Good day to you both," Eleni nodded at both witches, smirking inwardly as she noticed Dia's imploring gaze.

 _Shouldn't have held your tongue so long, kopelia._

Without waiting for their reply, she snapped her fingers cheerfully and vanished.

* * *

Hermione felt a surge of heat as Eleni disappeared and the tension in the kitchen seemed to snap into place, reverberating between master and apprentice like a thick rubber band. Master Kallas shifted her weight subtly and kept her attention on her correspondence.

"When do you leave for Thessaloniki?" Hermione asked, nonchalantly. Still holding the peach, she allowed herself to recline back on the counter slightly as she ate in slow, deliberate bites, keeping her focus on the fruit.

"Soon," Master Kallas responded curtly. Her master's wand effortlessly emerged from the sleeve of her robes and quickly darted above the table, reorganizing the parchments quickly before vanishing them.

As the older witch stood, Hermione sensed the weight of her clear gaze and allowed her tongue dart out to lick a stray droplet of juice. She felt rather than saw her master tense slightly and felt a rush of empowerment.

Master Kallas rounded the table and came to stand before Hermione, a note of concern gracing her features.

"I do encourage you to find time for rest and relaxation, darling. The coming months will soon challenge you in ways that will test the limits of your physical, mental, and emotional endurance. It would be wise to reserve your energy while you can," she said. Hermione softened slightly and vanished the peach to the compost outdoors.

"Please trust that my peace of mind is best served by attention to my studies," she replied earnestly. And it was true. Master Kallas gave her a searching look before nodding, summoning a light set of outer robes and slipping into them effortlessly.

While the fall months on Naxos weren't nearly as hot as summer, they were still far warmer than anything Hermione had ever experienced in Great Britain. They were approaching the middle of November and Hermione generally saw fit to roam about in either one set of simple linen robes or Muggle shorts and a t-shirt.

Despite the weather, Hermione had never seen Master Kallas leave the house without her customary set of three layers and today was no different. She had thought to ask if the woman layered cooling charms into the fabric or if she was simply used to the warmer climate.

Today, Master Kallas' innermost robes of ivory silk skirted around dainty ankles with ethereal ease. Her second set of robes were more architectural, with pleats and folds across the bodice reminiscent of origami. The fabric was a deep royal blue satin, setting off the tanned skin and dark features nicely as it hugged her willowy frame, highlighting her toned body.

The outer robes were Hermione's favorite - another layer of light ivory that wrapped across the witch's waist elegantly like a kimono, but with a subtle swirling burnout pattern across the soft fabric that allowed one to see the deep blue beneath.

Just as Minerva McGonagall was invariably associated with emerald green or Severus Snape had been with all black, Diamantina Kallas never deviated from her standard ivory or deep blue - a constant symbol of pride and love for her homeland, she said. The witch moved toward the open entrance hall and formal living space and Hermione dutifully followed to see her master off.

She vaguely wondered what colors meant to the Wizarding world and whether it was individual preference that so many noted witches and wizards adhered to one color scheme, or if it was yet another hidden meaning that she had yet to discern. A brief thought flitted across her mind as she considered what her own color might be, but it was interrupted by the musical voice of her master, who had finished assembling her things.

"If I may, you look beautiful today, Hermione." Startled by the non-sequitur and the casual use of her name, Hermione met her master's eyes curiously.

Seafoam eyes were now appreciating her body openly.

Hungrily, even.

The sexual tension that had sizzled indiscriminately in the kitchen returned with full force and it was as if her body zoomed from zero to sixty in the span of seconds. Heart suddenly beating like a drum within her chest, Hermione felt the sensuous touch of her master's gaze across her body like the barest graze of a feather.

The contrast between the smouldering gaze and the collected posture elicited a shiver that Hermione fought to keep invisible. Despite herself, she felt the telltale hardening of her nipples against the soft fabric of her suit and saw her master's eyes dart down toward her chest. Full lips parted briefly and Master Kallas seemed momentarily frozen as she stared. The lioness within her preened.

Throwing caution to the wind, Hermione stepped forward boldly, stopping a hair short of invading her master's personal kinesphere. Her lips curled into a soft smile as she let her eyes soak in the supple form of her master, lingering for just a moment on the soft skin of exposed collarbones above the silken line of her robes.

"As you do, my master," she replied with a low purr.

There was a split-second of panic as one dark eyebrow rose slightly - the usual prelude to disapproval, however a moment later there was a fluttering of long lashes and the serene expression returned with just a subtle darkening of her master's elegant cheekbones as the witch lifted her chin.

It appeared her overture was well-received.

Hermione felt herself tip forward slightly and her master leaned away with a sharp intake of air. The older witch seemed to be fighting for composure.

"This is not the time, my apprentice," Master Kallas' voice was soft and strained as she closed her eyes and slightly turned a cheek to one side. Hermione felt a heady sensation as her master's long neck was revealed before her, suddenly aching to lean forward and capture it with her lips and tongue.

Quelling the urge, Hermione took a step back reluctantly. _Deep breaths..._

"Then I defer to you to instruct me as to the appropriate moment, my master," she replied. Master Kallas took a long moment before gazing at her impassively. Without breaking eye contact, the older witch stepped forward and reached down to grasp Hermione's towel.

Taking it, she wrapped it around Hermione's waist carefully, long fingertips lingering on the exposed skin of her waist. The light touch sent a forkline of pleasure straight to her groin and Hermione fought to keep from gasping aloud. The subtle curve of her master's lips told her that the witch knew exactly what she was doing.

 _Merlin's hairy balls!_

"Enjoy your swim, darling."

Just as Master Kallas was about to turn away, Hermione reached forward and captured a hand, startling both of them.

"And may you have a productive day, Master Kallas," she said softly before lifting the hand to her lips. Rather than brushing across the knuckles, she flipped the hand over to plant a light kiss in the center of the palm. A small sound escaped her master, somewhere between a gasp and a light groan.

Stepping back smoothly, Hermione gave a small curtsy before brushing past the older witch and moving to the door.

While technically an improper gesture as Master Kallas had not dismissed her, Hermione's inner lioness purred as she strode out the door confidently…

 _All's fair in love and war._


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Hello all!_ _Before I get away from myself, let me explain my own impressions of Hermione and Minerva for the sake of the story._

 _While Emma Watson wasn't quite my image of Hermione Granger, for better or worse, I've accepted her as Hermione nonetheless. When we meet her in this story she's just passed her 20th birthday; I imagine her to be on the way to coming into her own as a woman... but a hair shy of having that sleek elegance of the self-assured. That's where Dia will step in to help._

 _At the risk of offending Maggie Smith fans out there (I promise I worship her on her own merit!), let me just say that I've never imagined Minerva McGonagall to bear any resemblance to the actress... and that I also never imagined her to be as old as she was cast in the films._

 _I happened upon an ingenious equation that another lovely writer coined to account for age vs. physical appearance in Magical Folk (_ if you recognize it or know who I can credit, please link or message me! I certainly did not invent it, but my memory is the worst! _). I've applied it to my imagination in this story - feel free to dismiss it if you wish to retain your own imaginings, but I'll put it out there for those who are curious._

 _In May of 1998 when the Battle of Hogwarts occurs, we learn that Minerva McGonagall is 63 years of age (according to Pottermore). In this story we encounter her about a year and a half later in November of 1999 putting her at 64. By subtracting 17 years from that age (the age of adulthood for wizards), dividing that number by two and then re-adding in the seventeen years, we arrive to 40.5._

 ** _(x-17)/2 + 17 = physical appearance, [x = actual age]_**

 _Save for Minerva's injuries sustained during the War which undoubtedly have taken their toll on her body, I therefore imagine early forties to be a good estimate for her physical appearance._

 _When we first are introduced to her in the books, Harry and the other first-years are greeted by a "tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes... she had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that she was not someone to cross."_

 _Somehow I always envisioned her as a rather classically beautiful woman with a rather formidable, unapproachable presence which leant to her appearing older than she actually was. It wasn't until Book 5 when she's hit by the stunners that I had to rethink my impression as they do reference her age. However, it's still my imagination and I like to go with what works - I always envisioned her as perhaps an older version of Eva Green (try Google searching her with the tags of "black and white" or "Penny Dreadful")... with spectacles, of course._

 _As with most things, however - you are left free to create your own conclusions._

 _Enjoy! And thank you always for the feedback... :)_

 _\- R_

* * *

"Headmistress!"

Sylvie's worried tones sounded immediately as Minerva stepped out of the fireplace, too exhausted to siphon the excess soot off her robes. The Elf took care of the dirt with a snap, trotting at her heels as Minerva made a beeline for her desk, heedless of her hat and robes.

Grimacing, she lowered herself into the chair and sighed in gratitude as Sylvie presented her with a cup of ginger tea and a familiar blue bottle.

"Thank you, Sylvie," she managed, reaching for the tray with a shaky hand.

Removing the stopper from the bottle, she sniffed the contents out of habit before quaffing the potion quickly and following it with a smooth sip of tea. Closing her eyes, Minerva waited - feeling the familiar tingle spread throughout her limbs as the potion began to take effect.

She felt Sylvie bustling about at her side, a rush of air flooding to her temples as her hat was removed, followed by a lightening across her body as the Elf magicked away her outer robes. Minerva sighed her appreciation as Sylvie tsked quietly.

"Mistress must take better care! Ise returning with lunch… Ptolemy will tell Master Flitwick to come after his classes. No news to report in youses absence, ma'am," she clucked.

Opening her eyes, Minerva sent the Elf a thin smile.

"Your dutiful care is appreciated, Sylvie. I shall recover momentarily," she said, already moving to sit forward.

Sylvie responded with a raised eyebrow that indicated her disbelief, before nodding and disapparating with a crack.

For a moment the office was silent, save for the shuffling of the portraits who waited quietly for her acknowledgement and the grandfather clock dutifully counting away the seconds. Time was indeed a precious commodity. One she could not afford to waste in the coming days and weeks.

Minerva sighed, bringing both hands to her temples and deliberately smoothing back her hair which had remained in its immaculate twist throughout the harrowing morning. The gesture was calming and she took a deep inhale before placing both hands on her desk.

Two letters had been tilted against the towering pile of awaiting correspondence, clearly indicating her immediate perusal. Minerva felt a familiar rush of appreciation. Ptolemy was ever conscientious in sorting through and prioritizing her mail.

Sylvie returned with a pop, bearing a tray of small sandwiches and fruit. She shot Minerva a hard look as she snapped her small fingers and another tray appeared bearing tea.

"I shall partake of this immediately. Thank you, Sylvie," Minerva promised, already reaching for a plate.

Sylvie nodded her approval silently before disapparating.

Sighing, Minerva nibbled on the corner of a sandwich as she mentally replayed scenes from the early morning meeting.

Her time with Kingsley had been short, though she had been grateful for the Minister's overture. Despite the wake of success he continued to trail following a massive overhaul of the Ministry's departments and systems, Kingsley Shacklebolt remained a true and loyal friend.

Connections solidified between Order members during the Second War remained intact and it was common knowledge that the Minister could frequently be found at The Burrow on Sunday mornings, partaking in a warm cuppa with friends and digging into second helpings of Molly's cooking with gusto.

Her morning Floo call had found her old friend slightly harried after his meeting with Cornelius Fudge. Attentive to time and efficiency, he had quickly updated her on the unfolding situation and immediately set about plying her with in-depth questions on warding and security measures.

Minerva had to admire the man's intellect and his ability to defer to others' expertise.

It was what made him an excellent Minister.

They worked well together and Minerva had been confident he would handle the press release with aplomb. After an hour they had been interrupted by more dire news upon which several members of the Wizengamot had appeared and the meeting quickly grew in size and scale.

Minerva had been steadfast in her refusal to engage in any high-level plans for retaliation and response.

At the moment the majority of the situation was out of their jurisdiction entirely, beyond providing necessary aid and support where it was needed. It was useless to engage in idle speculation or to overstep their international boundaries.

Kingsley was of similar opinion at the outset, but began to be swayed by the temperaments of more conservative wizards as the meeting progressed.

Everyone had learned their lesson in the Second War.

After much useless speculation and circling, Minerva sought to cut the meeting short having gathered as much relevant information as she could and having honestly relayed the position of the school.

It was no secret that Hogwarts employed several of Great Britain's eminent minds and that she and Filius held seats in the ICW. It gave them an inherent position of power within the current situation however Minerva had been resolute. Her first duty was to the safety and protection of Hogwarts and its students.

Any actions demanded by the ICW would first be vetted against her responsibilities as Headmistress.

The meeting wrapped up shortly thereafter, by which point she had a pounding headache and several shooting pains throughout her body. Minerva had provided a small bit of input regarding appropriate support measures and implementing national security, but her temper quickly grew thin and she difficulty reigning in her contempt for those who were quick to jump at the bit when not two years previous, they had been so reticent to acknowledge ascension of Lord Voldemort.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Minerva felt the weight of several pairs of eyes from above.

By now the portraits knew better than to disturb her before she was ready. She polished off the sandwich and turned her attention to the letters Ptolemy had left for her.

The first was her summons from the International Confederation of Wizards. As both she and Filius held seats representing Great Britain in the General Assembly, both she and Kingsley had anticipated the emergency conference following the alarming news of the morning.

The second was unexpected. Frowning, Minerva deftly opened the familiar emerald green and gold seal and quickly skimmed through its contents. Her eyes narrowed at the implications.

 _There hasn't been a Quorum convened on the request of the ICW in what? Over five decades?_

Feeling even more unsettled than she had during the morning meeting, Minerva sat back, suddenly breathless.

 _What does this mean?_

Carefully she removed her spectacles before rubbing the bridge of her nose.

A gesture towards the hearth had the fireplace roaring with renewed vigor as she shuddered against a chill that didn't come from within the room.

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to replay the last memory of the meeting that had taken up the last several hours of her time.

" _Minerva, the implications of these attacks are far-reaching… the anonymity of the perpetrators-"_

" _Only serves their underlying goal… which to this point remains unknown. We must allow this to take its course for the time being and let them reveal their hand."_

" _The unknown is what nearly cost us the Battle of Hogwarts."_

" _I won't lie to you, Kingsley. My initial impression of the matter hints at far more nefarious dealings than simple sport against Muggles or even the ISOS. I am asking you to remain vigilant and attentive without closing the doors to opportunity."_

" _I fear you hope for too much, Minerva. How can our own recent history remain separate from these current attacks?"_

" _I never intimated they were separate. I am asking you to refrain from drastic measures until after the convening of the ICW. There is more to this than meets the eye and I have a feeling the picture will paint itself for us upon the international stage."_

" _Politics?"_

" _Politics."_

" _Remind me never to cross you, Minerva. You play a tough hand."_

Minerva carefully held the memory in her mind before placing her wand at her temple. She extracted the memory slowly, watching it twirl and wisp lazily on the focus crystal for a moment before banishing it to the Pensieve with a flick.

It would not do to dwell on what was not yet revealed.

* * *

Following the excitement of the early morning, Hermione's day had unfolded rather slowly.

It had taken her most of an hour to calm herself following her heated interaction with Master Kallas, but eventually she had found a rhythm in her swimming and settled in for a longer stint in the sea than originally anticipated.

November brought overcast skies to Naxos and today was no exception.

The typically cerulean waters of the clear Aegean sea were slate gray and marred by more waves than usual. A brisk wind cut across the rough hewn rocks of the island's scrubby landscape, whistling between the leaves and silencing the usual birdsong.

After an hour and a half in the water, Hermione had thrown on a pair of trainers and shorts and quietly Apparated to the foot of Mt. Zeus. She cast a few disillusionment charms and a Notice-Me-Not for good measure and set her wand to vibrate every ten minutes to keep her pace as she began her hike. The tourist season had ended, though it wasn't unheard of for locals to ascend the paths from time to time.

As much as she occasionally missed simple interactions with others, Hermione took the physical training portion of her apprenticeship very seriously and didn't appreciate interruptions. Exercise was her time for reflection and for working through problems, both theoretical and personal.

During her first few months on Naxos, Master Kallas had accompanied her around the island to ensure she learned the different paths and the ways in which they challenged the body. Hermione had been astounded by her mentor's physical capabilities.

For a woman of small stature Master Kallas knew how to maximize her body's abilities to their fullest extent. She was incredibly fast, agile, and strong - able to lift nearly twice her bodyweight. But it was the understated grace with which she appeared to apply equally to most complex and most mundane of activities that left Hermione the most impressed.

The witch was never out of balance, out of breath, or caught off guard. There was a fluidity and strength about her movement and presence that made her seem effortlessly poised - as though she could float into a ballet studio or step into a duel at a moment's notice.

Distantly, Hermione had wondered how the elder witch had come to train her body with such care and precision… and to what end?

For as much as she knew Master Kallas enjoyed physical exercise and believed in it as a way of life, the elder witch adhered to her own training with a rigidity that seemed almost militaristic at times. It was yet another mysterious facet of the woman's life that Hermione longed to unravel.

In part due to her master's enduring example, Hermione had taken to her own regimen like a duck to water.

While Master Kallas favored a combination of yoga, weightlifting, and the occasional swim, Hermione preferred outdoor activities like swimming, hiking, and bouldering - choosing to incorporate the weight training into her circuits as she roamed about the island.

And as promised, she found the strength of her magic increasing with the strength of her body.

Simple spells flowed like water from her wandtip and Master Kallas had quickly taught her the advantage of non-verbal wandless summoning and banishing which had once seemed like such complicated, exotic methods of articulating magic.

Back at Hogwarts she had only ever seen Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall engage in such spellwork, the latter only ever in the comfort of her own office.

Upon asking, Master Kallas had intimated that the Western world had difficulty accepting both non-verbal spells and wandless magic, saying that they were attributes associated with the secretive and subversive methods of Dark wizards. She had also revealed that a large part of her own training had hinged upon it and that much of Africa and Asia preferred to work without wands.

Over time, Hermione had improved with the simple spells and the clumsy workings of her hands and fingers were no longer. Now, she simply opened her palm and her wand would appear within it. It was an unexpectedly organic and empowering approach to magic that she found intoxicating and she longed for more.

The wind grew stronger as Hermione ascended the rocky path towards the summit.

Sweat poured off of her body and her suit was again as wet as it had been when she left the sea. Her muscles were stinging with effort, but she charged on heedlessly.

Something roared to life within her whenever she trained - challenging her to push herself farther and take more risks.

The third path on Mt. Zeus was one of her favorite climbs.

It was steep and full of boulders that demanded a bit of kinesthetic logic to unravel. There were a few places she chose to break away from the trail and rely on more of her upper body strength to pull herself upward.

The summit came quickly and Hermione felt her muscles protesting the last leg of the hike. She willed herself to sprint the last few meters to the top, wind hissing past her ears until she finally stood at the highest peak, shaking like a leaf from exertion.

The everyday sounds of the earth had faded far below and all she heard was the wind blowing past her ears, lifting her sweaty curls, and filling her with a full feeling of freedom.

Looking down, she saw all of Naxos spread beneath her. The sun was attempting to peek through the grey haze, dotting the silvery blanket of the sea in flecks of gold. Feeling the blood still pounding in her ears, Hermione lifted her arms above her head and took a deep breath.

This is exactly where she belonged.

Above the sea, a part of nature… her own power pulsing through her veins...

The coming days and months held such promise.

There was so much left to absorb... so much to still _give_.

A brilliant smile broke out across Hermione's face mirroring the sun breaking through the clouds.

Expelling the air from her lungs, the lioness roared.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Enjoy!_

* * *

A sharp knock roused Minerva from her correspondence around half past three.

"Enter," she called, rubbing her sternum absently. After a moment, the familiar blue robes of her Deputy rounded the oak doors with a swish and Minerva met his serious expression in a level gaze.

"I see you have received yours as well," she began, noticing the letter poking out from his inner robes. Filius sniffed humorlessly before charming the chair before her desk to lower itself slightly so that he could sink into it. He shook his head as it rose so that they could speak at eye level.

"I am unsure as to whether I should be reassured or suspicious that the summons came so quickly," he said, meeting her gaze evenly. Minerva nodded thoughtfully as she reached for her tea.

"After speaking with Kingsley, I am taking it in stride. Everything until this point has been handled with extreme efficiency and tact. Akingbade does not have an entire school to run alongside his duties as Supreme Mugwump and has therefore devoted more time and energy into harnessing the talents of his subordinates."

She sipped her tea and waited. Filius nodded to himself, a few efficient wand flicks providing him with his own steaming teacup.

"If I may, Professor Flitwick," Albus' portrait spoke up quietly, directing a questioning glance toward Minerva. Suppressing a flash of irritation, she nodded her acquiescence and he continued.

"Minerva's assessment is correct. Regretfully, my first duty was always to Hogwarts and the pressing concerns of Voldemort. As a result I never bothered to 'harness the talents of my subordinates,' as she so eloquently put it. To be honest, I detested my visits to the island and preferred to operate from a distance. Babajide is a born diplomat and astute warlock. We would do well to trust in him."

Filius nodded in agreement and gave the portrait a small incline of his head.

"Thank you for your words, Albus. I fear perhaps I have grown jaded in my first impressions," he said sadly.

"It is only natural, Filius. We have seen much in our time," Minerva replied, moving her hand to pluck the second letter from her desk. She gazed at it for a moment before passing across the desk to her colleague. "And… while it appears that while the initial investigation remains in good hands, we would also do well to remain on guard."

Filius waved away his teacup to hold the letter in both hands. Minerva waited, watching her friend's facial expressions run the gamut from curiosity to confusion to complete bewilderment as he absorbed the letter's contents. She shared a subtle look with Albus over Filius' head and he gazed at her with thinly veiled reproach. _This is not the time, old friend._

"Minerva… Wha-... But?" Filius' stuttering served only to underline the gravity of the letter's request and Minerva smiled sadly as the flustered wizard passed the letter back and collected his thoughts.

After a moment he huffed quietly and pinned her with a steely look.

"Forgive me. But, am I to understand that the ICW has requested a Quorum of the Transfiguration Society? Surely the last time _any_ quorum assembled it was in regard to Grindelwald!"

"Fifty-six years ago, Filius. The circumstances are grave indeed," she replied. Her own first reaction had been equally bewildered, however she had a few more pieces of the puzzle to rely upon. _Let us see what Filius discerns..._

"May it be inferred that you are to sit upon the Quorum itself?" The typically cheerful Charms professor was pinning her with a look that communicated his seriousness in asking. It was not the first question she anticipated, but a fair one.

While the majority of Hogwarts professors held Masteries within their own disciplines, discussions regarding the inner workings of each respective society were few and far between. Minerva knew that Filius would not ask unless he deemed it necessary knowledge for the good of the school.

Still, she took a moment to sip her tea before responding, weighing the potential outcomes.

"It may. Doubtless, there will be a flurry of owls later this evening as the specifics are unveiled. My own first impression deems that the island will play host to both meetings," she said. It was more information than necessary, but it would save her time later.

"Both?!" Filius could not contain his incredulity. It was an impression formed upon conjecture but her intuition pulsed strongly. _The times are more dangerous than perhaps even we realize._

"Have the news outlets released any information yet?" she asked, hoping to redirect their conversation. Filius ruffled his robes slightly before settling.

"None. The staff and I have been keeping a close watch on both Wizarding and Muggle networks alike, I assure you."

Minerva lifted an eyebrow in surprise at that and took a moment to take a steading sip of tea.

"It seems your assessment of Akingbade serves well, Albus," Minerva remarked smoothly, letting her gaze drift upward. The light blue gaze did not twinkle as he raised his own eyebrow at her. Minerva sighed inwardly. Even as a portrait, Albus could be difficult.

"Was Kingsley able to indicate anything about the nature of the violations?" Filius asked after a moment.

There it was. Sighing, Minerva stood and took out her wand and murmured several spells that would ensure their conversation remained confidential. Filius watched her with a somewhat surprised eye.

"Yes," she paused and fixed her friend with an apologetic look, "Though I understand my insistence may appear to indicate my lack of confidence, please understand the seriousness of my request in that I must ask you - _all of you_ ," she let her gaze rake across the now-rapt portraits lining the walls, "To remain steadfast in your commitment to the safety of this school and its students. What I am about to share is highly restricted information… should it fall into the wrong hands... it could easily tips the scales against us."

The portraits murmured their assent and Minerva was touched when Filius took out his wand and cast an unnecessary Oath of Secrecy. Even Severus had deemed it a worthy enough event to witness. She felt his dark gaze boring into her from the far right, his figure eerily still as he waited.

Satisfied that her audience was engaged, Minerva nodded at Filius and they both resumed their seats.

"In the note I relayed you this morning, Kingsley indicated to me that there were three simultaneous violations of the International Statute of Secrecy. As of the early hour we did not know the nature of the violations, only that they occurred on two continents with uncanny precision of timing," she began. Filius was nodding. This had all been relayed in her short note.

"About an hour into our meeting the Minister received word that the final tally was not three, but five violations. All within an hour of each other." There were startled gasps from overhead and Filius visibly gulped.

"Where?" he croaked. Lifting a hand, Minerva slowly ticked them off on long fingers.

"Whomever is responsible chose prominent landmarks across the globe. The first occurred at the stroke of midnight last night at the Basilica of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. Three spires fell from the southern façade with the twelfth bell toll. Preliminary reports from the Aurors indicate involvement from at least twenty different wands."

"To disrupt the wards alone…" Filius breathed. Minerva felt a wry twist of pride as her colleague quickly latched onto the heart of the event's significance. It was a great blow to both their disciplines. It had taken the Minister's underlings nearly two cups of tea to see the level of skill and planning required to disturb the great structure.

"Indeed. Fortunately, as the hour was late, there were but a few casualties. However the timing has incited riots throughout Barcelona as many took it as a dire omen - there are theories speculating the end of the world, the coming of a messiah, and the ever-present political schemes between Spain and France. We've sent out some of our best Obliviators, but Kingsley predicts the Spanish parliament will be working overtime for weeks."

"Did you say the southern façade?" Filius appeared to be miles away, the inner cogs of his mind working furiously. Minerva frowned slightly.

"Yes, why?"

The shorter wizard shifted slightly in his seat, drawing in a deep breath and shooting her a thoughtful glance.

"Perhaps nothing. However, I have always held a great fascination for Master Gaudí's work and the Sagrada Familia itself has been a long-held interest of mine," Filius sat back, steepling his fingers as his brow furrowed in concentration. "Simply put, Master Gaudí intended there to be three prominent façades upon the finished basilica - each revealing images from Biblical canon. To the east he created the Nativity… which to Muggles relays the story of the birth of -"

Minerva held up a hand to stall his explanations.

"My father was a Muggle minister, Filius. I know the what the Nativity is," she said gently. It was not unheard of her to speak of her personal life, but from Filius' raised eyebrows, Minerva knew she had caught him off-guard. He was not the first to assume she was Pureblood.

"Ah. Right, forgive me, Headmistress. Ahem… well, yes. Where was I? The eastern façade was to be dedicated to the Nativity. To the west, the Passion. The south has not begun construction… but it was intended to be dedicated to the Glory… which metaphorically encompasses the road to -"

"Death," she whispered. Their eyes met and Minerva felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Of course, I could be reading into the significance too early," Filius bobbed his head and sipped his tea, averting his eyes for the moment.

"It is never too early to consider the ramifications of a well-organized threat," Severus' portrait cut in silkily. The unearthly chill Minerva had experienced earlier swept across her skin with ghostly fingertips. Next to him, Albus was nodding.

"Indeed. As with most events in our world, coincidence is simply the convergence of differing forces," he said. The other portraits looked grim but remained silent.

"What about the others?" Filius asked. Mimicking his earlier posture, Minerva sat forward and steepled her fingertips, resting her chin on her hands lightly as she continued.

"The second event occurred in St. Petersburg. At half past midnight, the domes of St. Basil's Cathedral erupted in unearthly black flames according to witnesses. When security measures were finally able to stop the fires, the domes were wreathed in iron causing several to collapse inward. The westernmost sanctuary was entirely destroyed."

Above, Minerva saw Severus' portrait shift in recognition at her words, but he made no move to interrupt her and so she continued.

"The third occurred simultaneously in Río de Janiero. The statue of Christ the Redeemer supposedly transformed into a demon-like creature before cracking. The right arm of the statue was severed and has gone missing. Local authorities have attempted to quell the wave of panic, but similar to Barcelona, there are many who believe it heralds the end of the world."

"So it appears the perpetrators centered their attacks around European timezones first. Seven in the evening hardly seems like a threatening time to wreak havoc," Filius mused, quickly accounting for the time differences.

Minerva nodded in agreement, pleased that her Deputy's intellect so readily followed her own.

"This seems to be corroborated by the last two events. The fourth and fifth happened within minutes of each other just before one in the morning, our time. Unfortunately, it meant that the fourth occurred mid-afternoon local time and the fifth in early morning. Both were... high-casualty events," she finished grimly.

There was a moment of silence as everyone absorbed the gravity of those words.

"Where?" Filius asked quietly. Minerva tipped her head slightly.

"The Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco is currently under expedited repair as is the Sydney Opera House in Australia," she replied. Filius was nodding to himself, eyes narrowed.

"The question then becomes how many perpetrators are there," he said. Minerva remained silent, interested to hear her colleague's read of the situation. Privately, she held her own opinions as well as those of Kingsley and the Minister's inner circle, but she knew Filius might see something they had not.

"Twenty wands at the Sagrada Familia, you said?" Minerva nodded. Filius frowned and magicked a piece of parchment and quill, quickly scribbling a few runes. Despite never pursuing a Mastery, Minerva suspected that Filius could have easily held a third-level classification in Arithmancy.

He continued to speak as he worked, his thin light script quickly filling the top portion of the page.

"The wards would have been strong about all of these structures, though I daresay the first and the second-to-last would have been the most challenging. An old friend of mine once related a bit of structural secrecy regarding the spellwork at St. Basil's. To the best of my understanding, the cathedral was protected by general warding around the central city rather than separate spellwork on the structure itself. My friend always thought it was a rather egregious oversight."

"It seems your friend may have been right," Minerva said quietly. She waited patiently, one hand absently rubbing her sternum. _I am too old for this..._

"Terrible, terrible…" Filius murmured, scribbling a few more equations. After a moment he sat and passed the parchment across the desk. Scanning it quickly, Minerva quickly discerned the necessary information.

"You _do_ believe they are all related," she said neutrally, keeping her features impassive. _Let him arrive to his own conclusions._ Flitwick bobbed his head and the portraits above murmured amongst themselves.

"As we noted, the timing is indeed most suspect. However my greater concern is what was happening elsewhere in the world while these events were occurring." Minerva's heart stilled.

"What could be more horrifying than five violations in under an hour?" The indignant voice from above came from Phineas Nigellus.

"Whatever they were meant to distract us from." Again, Severus' elegant voice settled upon the room like ice.

"I am in agreement with Severus," Filius said, quill in full tilt against a new sheet of parchment. "Perhaps we would do well to draw Septima into this conversation. Her Mastery would be of great use."

At that Minerva stood abruptly, startling Filius. She waved a hand overhead to quiet the portraits whose murmurings were beginning to build.

"No. For the moment nothing from this discussion leaves the room. We will assemble the staff after dinner to brief them on what will shortly be released to the public tomorrow. I refuse to engage in any more conjecture until after the assembly of the ICW."

"Surely we will not be the only ones to arrive to this conclusion, Minerva," Filius began, gesturing toward his parchment.

"I don't doubt it. But I will not endanger any of our staff and students by plunging us headfirst into an unknown situation heedless of its ramifications. What is happening here is larger than all of us. I ask that you trust me on this, Filius. We shall withhold our involvement until after the emergency conference. I won't have anyone at Hogwarts creating a target of themselves for naught," she said, steel winding its way into her voice.

Filius gazed at her for a long moment, grey eyes traveling over the planes of her face. _Please see reason, my old friend._

"As you wish, Headmistress. However, I should like to continue my assessment on my own if that would meet with your approval," Filius stood gracefully, wordlessly charming his chair to deposit him gently to the thick persian rug.

After a moment, Minerva nodded her assent.

"Be cautious, my good friend. The conference will be our opportunity to discern where this imbalance of power lies. Until then, I prefer to keep our hand hidden."

Minerva accompanied the shorter wizard as he made his way to the door. His gaze was turned inward and she could not discern the expression on his face. Filius' hands were clasped behind his back and he seemed deep in thought. Above, she noticed several of the portraits had disappeared including Albus and Severus. They would have to meet in private later.

Waving her hand, the carved oak doors swung open quietly.

"One last, if I may?" Filius inquired, turning to look up at her.

"Please." Minerva mimicked his posture, straightening her shoulders against the fatigue attempting to fold in upon her.

"What do you believe the likelihood is of needing to reinstate the Order?" Filius' formal posture told her that he was asking as her Deputy and not as a friend. The quiet question seemed to hang heavy in the room.

Minerva grew still, a deep sense of foreboding resting in the pit of her stomach as she felt the weight of those steely grey eyes. Her allegiance to the Order had been a complicated facet of their relationship during the Second War, causing them both a great deal of stress for a variety of reasons.

She was unsure of her friend's true feelings on the matter… whether he had resented her involvement or perhaps desired to join the Order alongside Pomona. They had never discussed it.

Minerva opened her mouth but the honest answer felt stuck in the back of her throat. _The need may be great, my friend._

"That is for tomorrow to tell," she replied softly.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Working quickly! Sorry this one's a bit short, but we'll be getting to the good stuff soon._

* * *

Upon returning to the villa, Hermione had been surprised to realize that the hour was still early.

 _Only ten thirty?_

She had pushed herself much harder than she thought.

Well, good. More time to left to accomplish the rest of her goals.

Today was _her_ day.

Arriving to the kitchen, Hermione shucked off her sweaty shorts and shoes and banished them to her room before spying a plateful of fresh fruit and a protein shake. Suddenly ravenous, she marched over and was in the middle of reaching for a peach when a sharp crack off her left elbow startled her.

"Holy Helga, Eleni! Watch where you park yourself!" she exclaimed, glaring slightly at the Elf's subtle smirk. She could be worse than Peeves when she wanted.

Eleni glided behind her and re-apparated with another crack, this time sitting on the counter next to Hermione's food, her thin legs dangling as she smiled mischievously.

"You'll not win your witch by exhausting yourself, Apprentice," she said silkily. Trust Eleni not to beat around the bush.

"Who said I'm trying to exhaust myself?" Hermione replied innocently before taking a swig of the protein shake.

Chocolate banana. Her tastebuds sang. _As difficult as she is, Eleni's the best._

"Careful, witch. If you work too hard there will be no room for _pleasure_." The last word was tossed off in a sing-song voice as Eleni hopped down and disappeared behind the kitchen's center island. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"And what would you know about that, Elf?" she retorted with more bravado than she felt. A blush was creeping its way up the front of her chest as her mind heedlessly flashed to Master Kallas' frozen expression and parted lips from a few hours earlier. Large green eyes suddenly glared at her from across the room.

"From the look on your face, I daresay I know a bit more than you!"

The glare dissolved into a high-pitched girlish giggle and Hermione felt her face redden with full force. Groaning, she shifted and leaned against the counter, putting her face in her hands. _Merlin, sometimes I_ _ **am**_ _such a child!_

As if reading her mind, Eleni trotted over and gazed up at her with a half-sympathetic, half-amused expression.

"Hush, young one. You are here to learn and learn you shall," she said kindly. "Just be patient. Anticipation is half the game."

Hermione looked down at her friend and grabbed a few grapes to munch on mulishly. There were times she would give anything to shed what seemed to be a permanent aura of naiveté. _I'm destined to be a cub forever._

A moment later, the Eleni swatted her leg.

"But tire yourself out and you'll be the only one to blame come the Master's return!" She batted her eyes dramatically and dodged the grape the Hermione indignantly threw her way. Cackling loudly she snapped her fingers and disapparated with another loud crack that left Hermione's ears ringing.

Incorrigible.

 _Forty-three years, my ass. I swear she's thirteen._

Huffing, Hermione marched off to her room to shower and change.

* * *

Dia was in the middle of inspecting Ana's inventory records when the owl arrived.

"Theia, this is for you," her niece's pale hand appeared before her holding a letter before retreating back into her office. Frowning, Dia plucked it from her fingers gently and quickly opened it upon recognizing the familiar green and gold seal. _But what…?_

Her heart stilled as she read the elegant emerald script. _There hasn't been a quorum in nearly six decades!_

"Ana… forgive me. I must return home," she said slowly, eyes still absorbing the last of letter's shocking contents. _Hermione._ Her niece's burnished red curls appeared from around the corner. Without looking, Dia knew there would be a crease between those flashing hazel eyes.

"So soon? But I wished for you to see -"

"I must leave at once, darling," she interrupted smoothly leaving no room for argument. "We shall have to reschedule." As she tucked the letter into her robes she caught her niece's expression. Ana frowned slightly, quickly reading her aunt's body language. Her soft linen robes whispered quietly as she stepped forward, both hands grasping one of her Dia's.

"What has happened, theia?" Her niece was nearly thirty years of age, but something in the soft question made Dia's heart clench.

She closed her eyes for a moment against the memory that threatened to resurface…

That same voice, much higher… more innocent… with the soft lisp of a child.

 _What has happened, theia?_

Dia opened her eyes and attempted to summon a reassuring expression.

"I am not sure, darling," she replied honestly. Dia removed her hand from her niece's grasp and placed it upon her shoulder even as she felt her own expression cloud. "But please keep a close watch on friends and family. I fear something terrible has happened…"

Ana's almond eyes widened and she nodded silently, biting her lip. Dia brought her other hand to her niece's smooth cheek, rubbing a thumb across it gently before stepping forward and bestowing two sweeping kisses.

"I love you, darling. We will speak soon."

* * *

"Severus? A word, please."

After a long moment, the scowling face of Minerva's former Potions colleague drifted into his portrait frame. Even in death, Severus was elusive.

"Yes?" he drawled, somehow managing to look entirely bored even in oil brushstrokes. Minerva refused to baited. She stood her ground and gazed up at him evenly.

"It did not escape me earlier… your realization during my conversation with Filius. About the second event in Russia."

"Your capacity for observation is astute as ever, Minerva," he sneered, looking down his long nose at her. Rather than responding, she chose to wait. When it became clear that her intention was serious, Severus sat back slightly, fixing her with a pensive expression.

"The westernmost sanctuary of St. Basil's Cathedral in St. Petersburg possesses similar symbolic significance to the façades of the Sagrada Familia. You mentioned its collapse when the domes were replaced by iron," it was a half-question and she nodded.

Lifting his chin Severus continued, "The western compass point is dedicated to the entry of Christ into Jerusalem…" He trailed off to see if she understood the reference.

Lips pursed, Minerva nodded slowly, already thinking.

Again, a coincidence at first glance, Minerva saw Severus' intuitive leap and was inwardly impressed. According to many veins and offshoots of the Abrahamic religions, the end of the world would herald the arrival of a new messiah who would enter into the holy city of Jerusalem and usher in the World-to-Come. Another metaphor for death.

It was a leap, but better to divine symbolism where none existed than to underestimate the threat before them. Severus' silken tones drew her out of her ruminations and back to the questions at hand.

"- the use of iron could also be a subtle nod to the work of Death Eaters during the First War," he was saying. Minerva's eyes narrowed.

Thus far, everyone had avoided any mention of Death Eaters, but she was sure that everyone's first thought had been to comb the landscape for any remaining or former sympathizers. The five events had not occurred in Great Britain however and she was caught in remaining hopeful that it was an entirely external threat.

"You recognize the spell?" she asked. Severus nodded, one hand coming to rub his chin thoughtfully.

"It may be a cousin, however the use of iron was a rather crude invention utilized on Muggle sympathizers at the outset of Voldemort's rise to power. Antonin Dolohov's paramour, Valdis Shafiq was first responsible for its application. She was known for trapping her victims in compromising situations and then casting the spell to encasing them in iron, either leading to their death by compression or death by drowning."

Minerva nodded, keeping her expression relatively neutral. Inside, she shuddered. Iron itself was not such an unusual element, however its symbolism held a complicated relationship to the world of magic.

During the Dark Ages and before the ISOS, witches and wizards were imprisoned and threatened with burning iron stakes, chains, and a host of other unfortunate concoctions that Muggles had developed for torture. As a result, iron was a considered an unrefined and rather crude metal and the majority of cauldrons, fastenings, and other supports used in Wizarding craft, alchemy, and architecture were of other materials.

"Who would know of its usage?" Minerva asked, folding her arms carefully. Her sternum was beginning to ache again. Severus shrugged.

"Death Eaters, obviously. Families of former victims. Clerks responsible for death certificates." He rattled off ideas in a drawl and Minerva suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. For every helpful moment, Severus had to undo it with sheer cheek.

"Fine, I understand. Common knowledge. Thank you for your time, Severus," she said swiftly, already moving back towards her desk.

"My pleasure," he replied and Minerva knew by the time she turned around he would already be gone. Distantly, she wondered where his other portrait hung and wherelse he saw fit to travel. From what she observed, he was nearly always away and roaming. _Just like Severus…_

Settling in at her desk, Minerva pushed her spectacles up a bit higher and sighed.

The emergency ICW conference was scheduled for Wednesday, November 17th.

Just two days away.

 _Filius and I will be here all night…_ she thought ruefully.

Casting a tempus Minerva saw the hour was quickly drawing close to dinnertime. She would have to make a point to attend meals over the next two days, as the next few days would be fraught with tension until she left for the conference. As Headmistress, she had a duty to remain strong in the face of adversity.

There was also the chance that the Prophet would release an evening addition of the day's international events, and if so, she wanted to be prepared. There would be no raucous or hysterical behavior on her watch.

Hogwarts had seen an increase in foreign student attendance following the defeat of Voldemort, and she wouldn't see their students agitated needlessly nor their international reputation marred by distress.

Returning to her papers, Minerva penned a letter that would be copied and released to all families following the international news of the ISOS violations.

As they had endured both wars, Hogwarts would remain a steadfast sanctuary for any and all in need.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Wow! Thank you all for the enthusiastic response. I have so many ideas bouncing through my head at the moment - I've been trying to get them all out as they come to me. I think I'll be able to work fairly quickly up to a point and then you will have to bear with me as I slow down again and delve into a bit of research before taking things to the next level._

 _I get a great amount of satisfaction in crafting my work... hopefully it will serve me in the end! For now, enjoy!_

* * *

Sea salt, pine, flowers, and sand.

The fresh smells of home washed over her, and Dia felt a rush of relief upon apparating to the steps of the villa.

The overcast morning had been replaced by clear blue sky and a light breeze. Dia had scarcely materialized completely before she was already in motion, her robes snapping about her ankles as she moved over the white flagstones with sure, quick steps.

A soft gesture opened the bright royal blue door before her and Dia was brought up short as Stelios stepped onto the threshold, holding a large letter aloft.

"Master Kallas, this demands your immediate attention," he said solemnly.

By the seriousness of his countenance, Dia knew that the Elf had somehow been appraised of the grim news. Stelios was well-connected and well-respected across Wizarding and Elvish families alike. She knew he had been to Athens in the morning - likely one of his contacts in the Ministry had seen fit to inform him of the unfolding events.

Dia accepted the letter silently, quickly taking in the blood red seal that was as familiar to her as the earlier gold and green. Scanning it quickly she frowned. This altered plans considerably.

"Please do a cursory of examination of the storeroom and have Eleni to send word to Ana. We will need her to send double orders of whichever ingredients are low. I will be down shortly to begin mise en place." Stelios gave a short bow and disapparated silently.

As she entered the main foyer and began moving off towards her private chambers, Dia quickly banished her outer robes while summoning a bit of parchment and a quick-quotes quill. Eleni and Hermione were nowhere to be found. According to their brief conversation from the morning, she suspected she would find the both of them outdoors on the terrace.

Sighing, she arrived to her private sitting room and quickly banished her shoes, pulling her innermost ivory robes over her head and closing the door with a flick. Left in just her light underthings, Dia flopped onto the sleek chaise lounge, casting a delicate hand over her eyes and beginning to dictate to the quill.

"One order of 10 mililiter phials in clear, one in blue. Four orders of 50 mililiter phials in clear, two in blue. Two large packages of standard ingredient mixture - please ensure the burlap is reinforced. One standard-size pewter cauldron. Check for cracks. One quartz pestle with a rounded handle."

The scratching paused as she mentally scanned through her stores.

She ticked off the obvious needs on her fingers. _Standard phials and basic ingredients… check._

Stelios would add the critical ingredients shortly.

Sighing, Dia waved a hand to close the gauzy curtains and cut the glare from the sea. _What about knives?_

Sitting up slightly, she looked over the parchment and narrowed her eyes.

"Please also put in a rush order for a Kasumi Damascus boning knife and a Shun Fuji Santoku," she finished, flicking the quill away. There wasn't time to request custom blades. She knew that Ana would have the order filled and sent before dinner this evening. _Bless that girl…_

Dia rested a moment longer, dark legs providing contrast against the smooth ivory upholstery.

Both letters were deeply unnerving, however she knew she was incredibly privileged to be receiving advanced warning of the ISOS violations before the general public. The press outlets would likely disseminate the news by nightfall.

Rubbing her temples for a moment, Dia rose and made a circuit of the room, attempting to reign in the scattered thoughts running through her mind. Several points vied for her attention. The first was how to inform Hermione.

The letter from the Transfiguration Society had been rather cryptic, but one of the violations had occurred in Sydney, Australia. To her knowledge, Hermione's parents lived on the opposite side of the country, but Dia understood from experience that worst-case scenarios were worth prudent and careful consideration.

Hermione was bound to her and thus, her wellbeing was paramount in Dia's eyes.

The young witch had delved into her new life on Naxos with such single-minded abandon, Dia knew that the War had taken an immense toll on her. She knew their studies brought Hermione great satisfaction and challenge, but still she had been reluctant to ply her with the cultural knowledge and oral traditions of both Mastery societies until the witch found greater balance in her own personal life.

It had been concerning how little Hermione referenced or even appeared to think of her life back in Great Britain.

Dia knew the witch exchanged letters with her parents with some regularity, but the flood of owls that had come to the island in her first few months had most often left without answer. At present, Dia doubted that her apprentice had written anyone from home in months.

Her pacing brought her to the sliding glass doors that overlooked the cliffs. Peering through the curtains, Dia watched the turquoise waves cast themselves upon the rocks below.

It had been her intention to give Hermione her entire first classifications as time to heal. Dia sniffed wryly. She knew better than anyone that time waited for no one. It seemed that she would have to press her apprentice into the next phase of her learning ahead of schedule.

Dia spun on her heel and moved toward her personal bath. A casual gesture divested her of her wand and its holster which settled themselves upon the wood table near the door. Lifting her arms, she moved her fingers in a complicated series of gestures which removed artfully plced hairpins and sent her dark curls spilling over both shoulders.

Stepping in front of the sink Dia banished the rest of her clothes and turned on the faucet, leaning forward to splash cool water over her face.

The coming months would shift her plans entirely.

It would only be proper for Hermione to accompany her to the Quorum, which meant that she would have a great deal of preparations to make before the younger witch would be ready for her formal debut. Dia bit back a sigh and summoned a handful of salt scrub, warming it between both hands before applying it to her cheeks.

It was far too soon - Hermione had yet to learn the complex traditions, rituals, etiquette, and affected speech of _both_ disciplines. Fortunately her debut into the Potions world could wait. But of the two, Transfiguration was by far the more complex. _And how much she has to learn..._

Another splash of cool water. Dia stepped back and dried her skin with a soft towel. Frustration with the circumstances would not help. She summoned a phial of olive oil and palmed a few drops before spreading it across her face evenly.

Dia preferred to attend to her lab practice in her most natural state. No dress robes, makeup, or other artificial barriers that could threaten her brewing or distract her from her work.

Stepping back Dia greeted her fresh reflection for a moment, still thinking.

Of course… the witch held promise.

 _A great deal_ _of promise_ if she were being entirely honest.

Minerva had not exaggerated that the witch was incredibly talented. Dia had never seen a more open, absorbent, nor willing mind. Hermione's self-discipline was staggering as was her capacity to integrate and apply complex knowledge quickly.

Dia had watched in disbelief as her apprentice had devoured five primary texts in the first two days alone; the witch had been able to quote entire passages verbatim in addition to being able to expound upon their foundational principles. It wasn't quite an eidetic memory, but Dia knew that Hermione possessed a rather rare set of skills that allowed her to work and study as she did.

The same skills were also well-honed tools that allowed her to escape from whatever personal demons still plagued her following the War.

Dia had not been oblivious to Hermione's persistent nightmares. Through their bond she had discerned that Hermione had suffered greatly, perhaps even more deeply than she herself realized. All throughout their initial studies, Dia had kept a watchful eye, however it was not yet her place to take a hand in helping the young witch.

 _And now?_

Dia paused to cast a harsh eye over the clean planes of her body's reflection.

Free from clothing, her dark skin appeared silky in the natural light of the bath. As she turned slightly, muscles rippled beneath the surface - well-defined across her abdomen and across her back.

At fifty-two, Dia had taken incredible steps to ensure her body remained healthy and primed for action. A light touch of wrinkles at her eyes and around her mouth revealed the subtle hand of time, but even to her own highly critical gaze, she still looked to be in her early thirties.

Dia knew from observation that Hermione admired her lean musculature, and if Eleni's commentary was any indication, the young witch sought to craft her own body into a highly tuned instrument.

She had been surprised by how quickly Hermione had taken to her physical training regimen. Dia imagined that the woman's initial rounded posture and weak muscles stemmed from too many hours holed up in the Library at Hogwarts, though from her own experience with Scottish weather, she couldn't necessarily blame her.

Naxos seemed to have a relaxing effect on her apprentice however, and Dia had been pleased to see Hermione take to the island's natural offerings with relish. For the most part, she had left Hermione to her newfound pleasures - happy to see her enjoying the sea and the mountains with almost childlike innocence.

The witch's physical transformation had been drastic but subtle and Dia had not realized just how far her apprentice had grown.

Inhaling deeply, Dia's vision faded out as she recalled Hermione's surprising entry into the kitchen earlier that morning. Her mind replayed flashes of long tanned legs, wild curls, and that deep-V in silky garnet.

It was not often that Dia was caught off-guard, but it seemed that Hermione could be more calculating than she let on.

Her apprentice was not one to spend time on her appearance, she knew. The young witch valued her intellect far above her beauty, however at their first meeting Dia had immediately absorbed the mane of curls, willowy frame... as well as the elegant cheekbones, sweeping brows, and caramel eyes. _Tools we shall learn to wield later, young one,_ had been one of her first thoughts.

It seemed that over time however, Dia's own self-assurance and easy sensuality had opened a set of questions for the young witch. The thrum of attraction through their shared bond had been an unexpected yet welcome discovery. Dia had felt the weight of those caramel eyes following her as she lectured, dipping down to appreciate a lower neckline or high-cut skirt.

 _And yet..._ Dia was at a loss.

Hermione seemed remarkably naïve for a witch of her age, likely due to her prominent role in the war and her conservative Muggle upbringing. Those elements alone were enough to give Dia pause, but she had drawn up short at realizing how rapidly she had allowed her unbreakable composure to slip at Hermione's sweet overtures.

Dia's thoughts again turned to the elegant and daring swimsuit. _Well, perhaps sweet is incorrect..._ she amended.

Shaking her head, Dia sighed. It was an unspoken rule of hers that she refused to engage in any sort of relationship or liaison with an apprentice until they were well into their third-classification. The risks were simply too high.

There was something pure about this witch that made her pause. In typical Gryffindor fashion, Hermione was an open book. Her sly and silky methods from the morning had been a delightful surprise, but Dia knew that when it came to large matters, the woman wore her heart on her sleeve. The young witch's interest and desire were earnest and Dia knew that she was an honorable woman...

But rules were rules and they existed for a reason.

Dia had been about to rely her dilemma to Eleni over coffee when the subject of her ruminations had nearly blasted down her defenses with that damned bathing suit.

 _Blasted indeed... you are too old to be rendered speechless by a pair of long legs and pretty eyes, Diamantina._

Dia glared at her own reflection, which was looking at her with flushed cheeks, before blowing a stray curl away from her face. The thought of her morning jarred her from her musings and she cast a quick tempus. Enough time had been spent on useless wonderings. _Th_ _ere are far more important matters at hand, witch._

With one last glare, Dia stalked toward her bedroom.

Quelling her deeper thoughts for the moment, Dia lifted a hand and opened her walk-in closet, stepping through to peruse the rows of carefully hung clothing items. She again lifted her arms overhead, this time sighing in appreciation as soft silk whispered over her. No undergarments today. An arduous brewing session lay ahead and she wanted to be comfortable.

A beckoning motion summoned a heavier second set of robes that settled upon her and wrapped around the first. Dia stepped into a pair of well-worn, comfortable heeled boots and they whisked themselves together as she moved back toward her personal suite.

A hand extended returned her wand and its holster and a carefully spun gesture quickly tamed her curls into a clean Dutch braid. Spying her parchment lying on the chaise lounge from earlier, Dia charmed it to find Stelios. As the door opened admitting her back into the rest of the villa, Dia squared her shoulders and steadied her breath.

 _Hermione._

Setting off at a brisk pace toward the outer terrace, Dia went in search of her apprentice.

There was work to be done.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Has anyone else noticed any formatting issues in the past few chapters? I seem to be fighting a losing battle with my document manager and it's leading to some strange results. I apologize for any bugs or apparent non-edits that seem to be floating around. I'll do my best to figure it out in the next couple of days._

* * *

Dia paused at the threshold of the terrace, absorbing the peaceful scene that lay before her. Wisteria hung in soft fronds from the pergola above, dispelling some of the intensity of the noon sun overhead. Beneath, Hermione stood in the dappled sunlight, working over the outdoor table which had been covered by newspaper and was playing host to a variety of summer vegetables.

The witch wore a light blue shirt dress that fluttered gently in the sea breeze, the long sleeves rolled up to reveal her bronzed skin and strong forearms. She hummed quietly as she worked, her honey and chestnut plait falling over one shoulder as she attended to the vegetables with care. Dia was pleased to note that her knife cuts had improved greatly. Her movements were centered and more efficient and her pace was something that Dia knew she had worked hard for.

 _Good witch._

Mentally steeling herself, Dia stepped forward and her heart clenched as Hermione turned, a sunny smile breaking over her features. It quickly faded however when her apprentice read Dia's facial expression.

"Master?"

Dia ducked her head slightly and moved closer, concentrating on keeping her breath smooth.

"Hermione, there have been several international events," she said softly, waving a hand over the table. A stasis charm settled over the food which would shield it from the elements until they finished or until Eleni returned.

"What sort of events?" At the unfamiliar tone, Dia looked up sharply. Hermione's voice was remarkably emotionless and Dia caught a fleeting glimpse of the younger witch's impassive features before she took her elbow and lead them away from the table.

"Let us sit," she suggested. Obediently, the younger witch followed.

Dia led them off to the right, up a short flight of white adobe stairs away from the terrace. There was a small sitting area off the doors to her office, closer to the windows of her private suite where the white adobe walls of the villa looked out over the rocky cliffs and the sea below.

Hermione sat stiffly, folding both hands in her lap and fixing her master with an opaque expression. _This woman is no stranger to hard news,_ Dia reminded herself. Sighing, she chose to drape herself over the smooth adobe with more ease than she felt.

"There have been five violations of the ISOS, Hermione. They all occurred last night in the space of an hour," Dia began, watching Hermione carefully. She didn't believe in softening the truth. Caramel eyes widened and her apprentice nodded her understanding. Dia continued, "The first three appear to have been inflammatory acts. The last two resulted in several deaths and injuries as well as introducing a host of issues regarding general visibility."

"Where?" A shadow of pain fluttered across the younger woman's face and Dia tilted her head.

"The Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, St. Basil's Cathedral in St. Petersburg, Christ the Redeemer in Río De Janeiro, the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, and the Sydney Opera House in Australia," she recited calmly. Hermione grew still and a small crease appeared at her brow, but after a short moment she relaxed and looked at Dia directly.

"My parents are safe," she said finally, responding to the unspoken question hanging between them _._ Dia felt a bit of tension leave her shoulders. She believed Hermione, though it was not the time to determine how the witch knew with such assuredness.

"This brings me great relief," she said softly, leaning forward to place a hand on Hermione's forearm. The younger witch leaned back slightly, her lips drawing together and Dia thought for a moment that she might have been holding back tears. Dia released her quickly and stood.

"Unfortunately, these events have triggered several consequences. For now, each country has been responding to the violations with help from the ICW. It remains unknown at this time what the fallout will be, however it seems there will be an emergency conference of the ICW. This is all to be expected, of course. However, we must do our own part in rendering aid," she paused to see if Hermione was following. The crease between the witch's brows was back and she was biting her lower lip, but again she nodded and looked up at Dia expectantly.

"Our role has manifested itself in two parts. The first comes from the Potions society. All available Masters within our area have been contacted to assist with supplies needed in Barcelona and St. Petersburg. We may also ship a few crates to Rio," she explained, holding a hand out to Hermione. The witch accepted it and stood.

"And the second?" she asked evenly. Dia schooled her features into a serene expression.

"The second comes from the Transfiguration Society. An… unusual request. We shall discuss it tomorrow. For now, please prepare yourself and meet me down in the lab in fifteen minutes. We will be working in the round," she said, already moving them back towards the terrace.

They skipped down the steps quickly and Dia was pleased to feel her apprentice mirror her actions with precision. The strode over the flagstones confidently and she knew they were already moving as one. _A good sign…._

"How many cauldrons?"

At this, Dia paused at the threshold to the villa. She fixed Hermione with a level gaze. The coming hours would test them both.

"All of them."

To her credit, Hermione simply squared her shoulders and nodded. _Good witch_.

"I will see you below, darling."

They parted ways and Dia paused to watch the younger witch continue confidently toward her rooms. Unbeknownst to her, this would be an unofficial test that would determine the course of the coming months. It was an entirely unprecedented decision she was considering, and Dia still felt a thread of doubt winding its way through her thoughts.

 _There is still so much left for her to learn..._

As she descended the steps towards the lab, Dia's nose was greeted by the familiar earthy scents of ancient rock, natural water, and a multitude of spices and herbs. Her mind flashed to her apprentice's subtle lifting chin, flashing eyes, and strong body. If anyone could succeed, it would be Hermione.

 _Of course she will succeed._

Dia cast open the heavy gilded doors and was pleased to see that Stelios had left the sconces lit and prepped the room for a durational brew session. The workbenches had all been shifted to form a U-shape allowing her to treat the space as an easily accessible inner and outer circle of sorts. A piece of parchment resting upon one workbench indicated a copy of what he had undoubtedly already sent to Ana. _Bless him_...

Aside from the light crackling of the sconces, the lab was silent, a thick heavy blanket of expectation weighing upon the air. It was a familiar, heady sensation and despite the dire circumstances, a corner of Dia's lips lifted slightly as she took a moment to summon her dragonhide apron.

Tying it assuredly, she rolled her neck and shoulders for a moment, allowing her arms to rake through the air. The lab felt alive today and it had been a long time since she had been able to flex her brewing muscles, so to speak. There was much to prepare, but Dia was confident they had enough materials to last several rounds through all the cauldrons before they would need to break and restock. It would mean a seven hour session at minimum.

Turning, Dia heard Hermione's light steps coming down the stairs. She was pleased to see her apprentice had washed quickly and that her hair was neatly confined beneath an ivory wrap. She wore two layers of dark blue robes similar to Dia's own - light enough to be comfortable but with a heavier outer layer that would protect against steam and spills.

"Master," she quickly bowed and came to stand at Dia's side overlooking the lab. The witch took in the unusual configuration of the room and looked at Dia expectantly.

"Attend to your apron, please." Without breaking eye contact, Hermione held out a hand and the dragonhide apron came to her immediately. _Good._

"Apprentice. We are to brew an assortment of healing-related potions utilizing all fifteen of our cauldrons. The Mandrake Restorative Draught will take the largest cauldron. The remaining will be divided and and utilized for the following brews in order of priority. Four sleep-related potions including Pepper-Up, Awakening Draught, Sleeping Draught, and Dreamless Sleep. We will also brew potions for Calming, Blood-Replenishing, Bone-Knitting, Smoke Inhalation, and Burn Paste. How would you proceed, maximizing our time, available ingredients, and cauldrons?" Dia asked, folding her hands behind her.

Despite their deadline, it was still a teaching moment and she would not sacrifice careful tutelage for time. It was her privilege to cultivate a deep passion and appreciation for the art of potion-making in her students. Stress had no place in her curriculum.

Hermione took a deep inhale then cocked her head.

"Accounting for time and volume, I would brew Pepper-Up and Calming in the two ten liter cauldrons, replacing the second with Smoke Inhalation and Burn Paste in the second and third rounds. The Awakening, Sleeping, and Dreamless Sleep Draughts can all be brewed in double batches in the five liter cauldrons leaving one cauldron for Smoke Inhalation. The remaining potions can be brewed and attended to in the five three liter cauldrons," she said confidently.

Dia suppressed a surge of pride.

"Preference on cauldron material?" she asked, keeping her expression neutral. Hermione glanced over toward the cauldron stores thoughtfully.

"Put the Smoke Inhalation, Awakening, and the Bone-Knitting in copper to maximize potency. The Burn Paste in pewter to speed coagulation," she answered swiftly. _Good._

"Temperatures at the outset?" she asked. Hermione gave her a level gaze.

"The Mandrake Restorative Draught will begin at 260º. Pepper-Up, Smoke Inhalation, and Blood Replenishing all begin at 190º. Bone-knitting at 175º, Calming at 150º, the four sleep potions begin at 120º, and Burn Paste at 80º," she replied.

Dia gazed at Hermione's calm features, lit softly by the firelight. There was no doubt in her eyes. Dia smiled gently.

"Well done, Apprentice" Dia said softly. Hermione lifted her chin slightly, but remained serene. Good. She knew to remain focused on the task at hand until their work was finished.

Stepping forward, Dia lifted both arms as though preparing to conduct a symphony orchestra. She felt a quickening in the energy of the room.

"Watch," she instructed.

Closing her eyes, Dia began envisioning each workbench with a cauldron and its required tools and ingredients neatly prepped. Her arms and fingers moved in familiar spirals and arcs from decades of practice and from the sharp intake of air off her right shoulder, Dia knew they were soaring into their respective places in an impressive, chaotic dance.

She remembered the first time she had witnessed Mistress Cunningham command her lab. It had been a stunning skill to witness and one that had taken several years to master. It was time Hermione had a taste of what lay beyond the hours of rote memorization and knife cuts of her first classification.

Feeling the settling of the lab's energy, Dia slowly opened her eyes and gave one last complicated flourish to light the cauldrons. As an afterthought she waved an arm toward the edges of the room and lit the hundreds of extra white candles that lined the cracks and crevices of the natural stone walls that had once been a sea cave. It was a familiar, awe-inspiring sight.

Turning, she saw the lights dancing across Hermione's face which was alight with wonder.

"Two minutes ensuring mise en place and then we shall begin," Dia intoned gently, placing a hand on her apprentice's shoulder.

The surprise on Hermione's face was quickly replaced by steely resolve and she gave a firm nod.

"I understand, master."

The true challenge still lay ahead.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Whew! As you may have deduced, these last few chapters have all been unfolding over the same "day." It's important to me to pack in the significance and struggle that each of the characters is enduring as this particular plot point is unveiled. I promise the timing will begin to pick itself off the ground shortly._

 _As always thanks for reading and for taking time to provide feedback! - R_

* * *

Across the Great Hall, Hogwarts students dug into their dinners with customary gusto. The general volume of the room suggested nothing out of the ordinary as debates were had, jokes exchanged, and classes discussed.

At the front of the room however, conversation at the High Table was slightly stilted.

On the left side of the table, Pomona and Poppy were discussing potential triage measures in San Francisco sotto voce. Their careful conversation was overlain with a _Muffliato_ and subtle Disillusionment charm to which external eyes would only be able to discern a conversation about the upcoming holidays should anyone be lipreading in earnest. On the right side of the table, Hagrid recounted a message from a friend in St. Petersburg in low tones with Slughorn, Jones, and Hawtrey as audience, the four of them thick as thieves.

In the middle, Deputy Headmaster Filius Flitwick sat feigning enthusiasm in his glazed trout and keeping an open ear to the discussions happening around him. The High Chair to his left remained conspicuously empty and he couldn't help but wish for Minerva's steadfast presence. It was unusual for the Headmistress to miss dinner, but he supposed she had a great deal of correspondence to attend to prior to the emergency conference.

Scanning the student tables again and seeing no evidence of mischief, Filius turned when he heard Septima's soft conversation with Sybill.

"- her parents remained. I'm not sure where they live, though I guarantee you Minerva would know. I'm sure that such high-profile Muggles are well-guarded. But beyond Granger, I'm lucky that no friends and family were in the violation zones," Septima was saying in hushed tones. Sybill nodded with an unusual amount of clarity, adjusting her voluminous scarves to wrap about her more tightly.

"The Inner Eye suggests that Granger's parents are indeed safe. Despite her truly appalling lack of Sight and respect for the vibrations of the veiled unknown, the witch was always a testament to our House," Sybill replied thoughtfully.

Filius suppressed a wry chuckle. He doubt his colleague would forgive Miss Granger's contempt of her beloved discipline anytime soon.

A flurry of motion from above effectively cut across any comment he may have been about to make. With a sinking heart, Filius and the rest of the High Table watched with veiled worry as a fleet of owls poured into the Great Hall bearing thick rolls of paper that could only be special evening editions of The Daily Prophet.

A low rumble started across the tables as students looked to one another in confusion, a number of hands lifting to grasp the incoming papers. Filius exchanged a number of significant looks with the other professors, preparing them to rise and attend to their House tables shortly.

A number of gasps and even a few shouts broke out as students absorbed the front page headline which, in characteristic sensationalism appeared to read, "I.S.O.S. BREACH IN FIVE CITIES: GLOBAL WIZARDING COMMUNITY THREATENED WITH EXPOSURE"

Filius sniffed in distain as his own copy was unceremoniously plopped upon the remains of his dinner. The front image shifted between five rather chilling photos of the affected world sites including the smoking remnants of St. Basil's and the Sydney Opera House. Beneath the headline two other articles read, "Rio's Christ the Redeemer Missing Wand Arm - Further Theories Supporting Merlin's Masquerade as the Muggle Messiah," and "Noted Obliviator Dispatched to Sydney - How Could We Forget Dawlish?"

He felt a flash of anger at the last. The Auror had been one of the four responsible for Stunning Minerva McGonagall not three years prior. His colleague rarely spoke of the incident but Filius had gathered there had been complications. Minerva customarily took a pain potion with dinner every evening.

Filius' head whipped around and his focus was quickly drawn from the blinking paper as a scuffle broke out between the Hufflepuff and Slytherin tables. Slughorn was already well on his way to handling it - green sparks were flying from the portly wizard's wandtip as he huffed his way over, gruff voice shouting for the boys in question to break it up.

In dismay, Filius scanned the room and quickly took note of the rising pandemonium. Several students were sobbing, several more in heated debate over the paper, and the rest in apparent states of shock and fear as they flipped through the pages with open mouths. The overall noise level echoed between the stone walls, adding to the clamour and confusion.

It was time to move in. Filius nodded to his colleagues and was about to depart for the Ravenclaw table when the main doors flew open and ricocheted off the stone walls with a heavy clang.

"SILENCE!"

As the familiar Scottish brogue broke upon the escalating chaos in an echoing _Sonorous_ , everyone froze and the room did just that.

Filius felt a thread of tension dissipate as heads turned and looked to the end of the room where the elegant silhouette of Minerva McGonagall was poised at the threshold of the main doors.

Backlit by torches and their brilliant reflection off the marble floors of the Entrance Hall, the tall witch stepped into the candlelight slowly, each step of her heeled boots echoing throughout the now-silent room.

Minerva's voluminous robes followed her like a train and even from a distance, Filius could see her emerald eyes scanning the room beneath the rather rakish tilt of her hat. From his vantage point, there was a visible wave of comfort that seemed to radiate throughout the student body as the stately witch gracefully made her way down the center aisle. She eyed the tables carefully, giving a slight reassuring smile here and there and Filius had to admit, his colleague had taken to her role as headmistress with ease.

The room waited with baited breath as she rounded the table and came to stand before the High Chair. Lifting both arms she gestured for everyone to be seated. She remained standing.

"It seems that everyone has received the evening post," she remarked dryly. There were a few scattered chuckles in the Hall, but most everyone was waiting with worried expressions.

Minerva sighed softly and flattened both palms on the table, looking out across the Great Hall with a serious expression.

"I will not mince words. As the Prophet has just released, there have been five violations of the International Statute of Secrecy by persons as of yet unknown. The affected cities include Barcelona, St. Petersburg, Río de Janeiro, San Francisco, and Sydney. Our hearts and deepest sympathies go out to the affected Wizarding communities across the world," she began, voice still magically enhanced to carry. Stepping back, she slipped out from her place at the table and began to walk behind the other professors slowly with hands clasped behind her back.

"To summarize the matter, these events are currently being attended to by the International Confederation of Wizards. Great Britain and the Ministry of Magic are rendering aid wherever possible - by means of supplies and wands. Responsive measures will be decided at an emergency conference of the ICW in collaboration with the affected nations. Anything beyond these facts falls into the realm of pure speculation."

Minerva paused as she reached the far end of the table, looking at students and professors alike with just the barest hint of sympathy. She continued softly, "It is no secret that our own community within Great Britain still rings with the memory of Voldemort and the Second Wizarding War. I have no doubt that everyone in this room has been touched by the memory of loss and violence..."

Filius felt his heart go out to his friend and colleague. Of everyone in the room, she was likely one to have suffered the most and yet how few realized.

"I understand you are confused and frightened."

Here she smiled kindly and Filius was struck by how quickly the emotion changed the witch's noble face.

Her typically stoic features radiated warmth and he was reminded, with a tinge of embarrassment, how truly beautiful Minerva was. His friend rarely allowed herself to be anything but the venerable Headmistress of Hogwarts. But beneath the veneer of heavy robes, purposefully aging glasses, and stiff posture, his friend was unable to hide the simple fact that she was indeed a witch in her prime.

A bit of that same warmth infused her voice as Minerva continued, "As of this moment, there is much that appears uncertain. But I ask that you remain strong. Turn to each other. To your housemates, classmates, and friends. Turn to your fellow Houses and depend upon the unique strength and spirit that guides each of us."

Filius felt his shoulders square as Minerva stepped down and began walking across the front of the House tables. Her rich Scottish brogue rang with nobility and challenge. He could see the students responding. Faces were dry and several were nodding to each other, a few tentative smiles breaking out here and there.

"At the moment we do know this: Hogwarts is safe. You are safe. You are protected by wards that have stood for a thousand years and by castle walls that are first and foremost, a fortress. You are attended by a faculty who are eminent masters within their respective disciplines. As Headmistress, I am charged with the safety and protection of each and every soul in this great school and that is a role I take with the utmost seriousness and respect. The coming days and months will challenge us all. I do not promise it will be easy, but I do promise to keep you all well-informed..."

Minerva returned to the center of the room and took a step up to stand in front of the High Table and look out across the Hall confidently. Even though her face was turned away, Filius could see the subtle lift of her chin.

"Each of us has a choice - we may either cower in fear, afraid of what the unknown will bring. Or we may _live_. The greatest revenge against those who would break us is to live _well_ and _fully_. To celebrate friends and family. To pursue our dreams, to revel in the present… and to avoid giving into the darkness that lingers at the edges of _what we do not know_."

Minerva's smooth, clipped tones rang with honesty and there was an enormity and weight to them that Filius found remarkably steadying. The witch turned and gestured broadly to the High Table and to all the House tables.

"I may not have the assurances and answers you desire at this time. But I do know that we are _all_ in the company of the best and brightest. And we would do well to trust in ourselves... as _united_ , we have the power to withstand anything."

With that, the Headmistress of Hogwarts turned smartly on a heel and canceled the Sonorous. She gracefully made her way back to her seat at the High Table… and as she moved, a single clap broke through the silence...

Followed by another… and then another…

And soon the entire Hall was ringing with applause as Minerva settled into the High Chair elegantly, a small smile playing across her lips as she nodded her acknowledgment.

Filius' eyes shone as he clapped - he and the other professors exchanging glances of surprise, relief, and pride as all across the room, students of every House applauded… clasping hands and providing hugs, murmuring words of encouragement…

Later, no one was quite sure how it happened…

Perhaps it was the first-year Hufflepuff who lost her balance and was caught by a Slytherin third-year. Or the fourth-year Ravenclaw who turned to hug a friend and found himself embracing a Gryffindor…

But Filius watched in amazement as the lines between the House tables quickly blurred, and in an unprecedented display of inter-house unity, the entire student body of Hogwarts shared in a collective moment of solidarity - colors forgotten and rivalries set aside as students offered each other reassurance.

The other professors shook their heads, more than a few eyes brighter than usual as they gave in to their own shared moment of support. They rose to exchange handshakes and hugs, their earlier anxieties momentarily quelled by simple acts of camaraderie.

Filius exchanged a meaningful hug with Pomona before she was enveloped by Sybill's voluminous shawls. Hagrid's laugh resonated loudly as Hestia Jones attempted to give him a noogie from behind his seat. Even Slughorn rose to give a few blustering handshakes.

Turning, Filius paused and searched for the Headmistress. His grey gaze quickly zeroed in on the witch, sitting quietly in the High Chair.

Minerva McGonagall simply watched it all and smiled softly.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Getting there!_

* * *

It was close to nine in the evening when Master Kallas finally dismissed Hermione from the lab. They had been brewing for over eight hours without a break.

She felt bone-weary beyond belief and each foot ascending the stone steps had felt unimaginably heavy, as though she hadn't slept in days. Scrubbing a hand over her face, Hermione yawned unabashedly and grimaced as the muscles in her neck protested. Lifting a heavy arm, she massaged at them slightly, wondering how she could feel so stiff.

With a jolt, images from her busy morning flooded back into her memory and she sighed, recalling her swim and intense hike with a shake of her head. _Merlin's beard, that seems like a week ago…_

Hermione floated through the darkened villa, too tired to even wave a wand to light the candles scattered throughout. The adrenaline rush that had sustained her toward the end of the session seemed to be dwindling. Her forearms ached from stirring, grinding, and cutting, and her eyes felt as though she had kept them open for the last several days.

Brewing in the round had been a grueling experience, but Hermione couldn't help but feel a niggle of pride at realizing she had survived it. The first few hours had kept her on edge. Fifteen cauldrons split between two brewers wasn't a completely insane feat, but she had been unprepared for how taxing it had been on her mental abilities.

Her mind had been twice as active as her body - balancing each individual brew's needs against time and the others - always thinking two cauldrons down the line to ensure they were being tended to properly. Master Kallas had ensured they kept a clockwise rotation which allowed the two of them to keep moving in a manner that tended to the brews without allowing their bodies to grow stiff.

The largest cauldron holding the Mandrake Restorative Draught had been the most finicky - requiring a hand every thirty seconds to two minutes for nearly five hours until it was left to simmer. It was a complex brew and one she had been eager to try, though she hadn't anticipated having fourteen other cauldrons to oversee at the same time.

Hermione paused on her return to her room at seeing the door to the terrace left ajar.

She frowned.

Eleni and Stelios were nowhere to be seen, though she imagined they were likely out attending to Master Kallas' order from the apothecary, spending time with their families, or seeing to the news outlets. The announcement had rattled everyone and Hermione was surprised to feel rather grateful that Master Kallas was who she was. The letter from the Potions society had at least allowed them to do something useful in response.

As she moved to close the sliding glass door, a fresh breeze passed over her grimy face and Hermione was drawn like a moth to a flame. Outside, the sun had just passed below the horizon, leaving a brilliant watercolor of orange and red above the shimmering sea.

Stepping past the threshold, she saw that the outdoor table was still full of vegetables from the afternoon.

 _Eleni must not have returned at all._

A glance told her that Master Kallas' stasis charm still held and Hermione passed by, too tired to clean up the mess. She perched on the low adobe wall at the edge of the terrace, shifting a bit to avoid an errant grapevine that snaked up a wooden column to support the pergola. The bright white flagstones leading down to the sea path seemed to beckon invitingly, but Hermione knew that even walking to the low lookout would mean she would end up sleeping there. _I'll just sit here for a minute..._

She rested quietly, content to revel in the soothing sound of the waves.

The sweet scents of pine and wisteria reached her nostrils. It felt like balm to her overloaded senses which had been assessing various brews through taste, touch, and smell for too many hours. The skin of her face felt both oily and raw from standing over steamy brews, but between the fresh air and cool breeze, Hermione felt herself relaxing slowly.

Her eyes flickered shut and she replayed several images from the session.

Chopping and dicing. There had been a lot of that.

Adding ingredients and watching surfaces bubble, steam, or change color. There had been a lot of watching too.

Master Kallas' amazing demonstration of non-verbal wandless magic as she had prepped the lab. That had been… _Wow._

Hermione smiled as the memory returned with full force.

As Master Kallas had shut her eyes and opened her arms to prepare the space, Hermione had felt both a flush of anticipation and sense of intimacy, as though she were bearing witness to something extremely private. A short moment later, her jaw had nearly hit the floor upon watching what felt like the entirety of the lab respond to her master's call.

Cauldrons had soared through the air followed by hundreds of ingredients - everything dancing around each other, filling the space, and eventually settling softly into neatly arranged settings at each of the workbenches. The cauldrons had filled themselves with perfectly portioned amounts of water and the tools had lined themselves up with an invisible hand.

Flames were ignited, and when Master Kallas had lit the hundreds of white candles surrounding the walls, Hermione had been filled with a deep sense of awe and yearning - the same sensation she had felt upon first entering the Great Hall at Hogwarts as a new student. It was an arresting feeling - to truly perceive the _potential_ of magic, as well as to acknowledge a deep-seated need to _understand…_ to _know…_ to be able to conjure and participate in such beauty for herself.

It was a feeling that prickled at the corners of her eyes and Hermione had known she must have looked a complete fool to her master, but the moment had etched itself indelibly onto her heart.

Once again, Hermione Granger had affirmed to herself the enormity and _privilege_ of what it meant to call oneself a witch _._

She grinned again, shaking her head at her own silliness. Reaching up, Hermione gently touched her cheeks... realizing with a start that it had been a very long time since she had been filled with happiness from within. Sure, she laughed with Eleni now and then… or would come across something amusing in one of her books… but the warm sensation spreading through her chest was much deeper. _This is something I would use for a Patronus._

The realization was slightly startling. Unbidden, Hermione's cheeks flushed as her mind raced ahead and flashed to other memories that suddenly seemed rich and more poignant than they had a few hours earlier…

The soft planes of Master Kallas' face illuminated by the flash of a quickly changing brew - her full lips parted, eyes wide and attentive, one errant curl lingering beneath her left ear…

The comforting presence of Master Kallas' compact frame sliding in to stand flush against her, a gentle arm brushing Hermione's elbow to encourage it to lift by a few centimeters while she stirred…

 _What is with you? You weren't thinking about Master Kallas like that during the session!_

Abruptly, Hermione made a face and stood, taking a big step up to stand on the low wall. She stretched both arms overhead and sighed as they released, feeling a few cracks in her spine.

It was true. She had been entirely focused on their task at the time. A low-key rumble of anxiety had persisted in the pit of her stomach until she had felt her master countering it through their bond. After that, everything had been about time and efficiency. Measurements. Counting stirs.

 _None of this... **mooning**_ _over your Master..._

But as she shifted weight between her aching feet and looked down toward the sea, Hermione's mind kept drifting back to small details about the witch. The sound of her boots echoing lightly on stone floors. Her lips quirking slightly in approval. Her delicious, natural scent…

Hermione sighed and shook her head, unsure if she felt like grinning like a fool again or closing her eyes and sliding back into the pool of memories that seemed to call to her enticingly…

… Sure dark hands stepping in to relieve Hermione of a small mishap with one of the Awakening Draughts that had received a hair too much honeywater. Un-doing the mistake hadn't been out of her abilities, but there had been two brews to the right that would have been ruined without proper stirring.

Master Kallas had relieved her without a word, somehow managing to communicate her intention for Hermione to continue and reassuring her that everything was under control. Her master's wand automatically left and went to attend to two brews on the other side of the circle by itself. Their communication had been easy, effortless… _nice._

Watching the elder witch brew was something that would never grow old, in Hermione's opinion.

Master Kallas oversaw her work with a raw sort of energy that was both entirely professional and entirely personal. She never rushed - instead moving quickly with purpose (Hermione was positive there was a difference). Her seafoam eyes were quick and attentive - able to discern minute changes to brews with well-honed perception that Hermione was only beginning to follow.

Those same eyes also managed to hold some form of emotion… Hermione wasn't sure what to call it. _Love_ seemed a bit strong, but there was a tenderness, a care to the witch's gaze that almost made Hermione envious of the brews she attended...

Hermione chuckled aloud at the thought and quickly inhaled, flushing slightly as she realized she was still standing alone atop the adobe wall.

Smooth.

 _Now you're cackling to yourself…_ Hermione sniffed wryly. _What a witch._

She jumped down and looked around.

By now the sky had deepened to a rich greenish-blue near the horizon while an inky indigo spread itself overhead, lightly dotted with several stars. The sea still stirred gently below and Hermione sighed again as she gazed out over the darkened waters, feeling a familiar wave of freedom, nostalgia, and longing. For the millionth time since she had arrived on Naxos, Hermione felt a blanket of reassurance wash over her.

 _Strange you should feel so secure when there are terrible things happening on the other side of the world…_

The thought elicited a small shiver, but another sweeping glance of her surroundings quelled the insecurity. No. The villa was Secret-Kept and Naxos was entirely out of the way. She was safe.

In fact, if she were being entirely honest with herself, Hermione felt far safer on the island than she had ever felt at Hogwarts.

 _Especially after the War…_

She closed her eyes again against flashes of the horror that were too quick to jump to the surface of her mind. They were always there. Lurking just out of sight at the edges of her thoughts. Images of her home and refuge crumbling down around her. Spells tearing the walls apart. Bright flashes of red and green.

Hermione shuddered.

Voldemort had made it entirely apparent that while Hogwarts was indeed a magical stronghold, it was by no means infallible. Her efforts in the repairs had made that doubly clear. A castle - even a magical one - could be torn asunder and be reduced to bricks and mortar.

No. For now, Naxos was much safer. Here, she was practically invisible to the rest of the world and it gave her time to assemble her own defenses, build her skills and knowledge, and recraft herself into a witch able to fend for herself.

Clenching her jaw, Hermione took a deep inhale and willed herself to cut the spark of anxiety that had flared in the pit of her stomach.

She was safe.

She was learning.

And most importantly, she would never be caught off guard or unprepared again.

Never.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Wow! Thank you all for such thoughtful responses... really, it's so encouraging and fun to hear the things you appreciate and question. I love it!_

* * *

Dia felt the familiar jolt in the villa's wards and was halfway up the steps to the lab in a knee-jerk response before she remembered how incredibly exhausted she felt. Slowing down, she muttered a few cleaning spells that addressed her slightly spattered robes, and stopped at the mirror at the top of the stairs.

Her tired, grumpy reflection gazed back, dark circles already emerging beneath her eyes. Pursing her lips, Dia lifted a heavy hand and smoothed it over her face, nodding in satisfaction when the glamour took effect. She would fool no one, but at least she felt better for it.

There was an insistent knock on the door as she glided toward the foyer. Mentally steeling herself for the woman on the other side, Dia took a deep breath, already grimacing internally as the knocking became constant. _Of all times to drop by…_ she grumbled internally.

Forcing a smile in place Dia waved a hand and the door opened, revealing not only her illustrious aunt, but her niece, who bore a large basket of what could only be the potions ingredients she had requested. The two witches stood vamping in perfect symmetry - a hand on a popped hip, a lifted shoulder, and an elegant brow arched in not-so-subtle irritation. The elder lifted a delicate hand and her wand returned like a magnet from where it had been knocking on the door. _Trust Theia to refuse to dirty her hands._

"Theia! What are _you_ doing here?" Dia hissed through gritted teeth, abruptly irate by the intrusion. _As if they don't know my rules._

The two witches in question brushed past her in a flourish of dark blue silk. Yiayia simply laughed, tossing a hand up and waving her away as Ana quickly followed, unsuccessfully attempting to hide a growing smirk.

" _You?_ Is that how you refer to your elders, Dia? I thought I remember instilling more tact in you than that! Never you mind - well, _of course_ I'm here to see you - it's been _ages!_ I've brought you some of the best supplies from Alexandria… they're wrapped in here with the other business you requested from Ana. I _am_ proud of you both for stepping in to lend a hand, why I sent the boy off at once when Eleni broke the news… he's requisitioning information from the Council."

Yiayia paused to take a dramatic breath, casting a bewildered look between the two of them. "Why ever _are_ we speaking in English?"

"Her _apprentice_ , Yiayia," Ana supplied, managing to make the word drip with disdain. Her eyes were already sweeping the darkened villa suspiciously as if Hermione would be lurking behind an end table. _Doubtless this was her idea._

Dia suppressed a noise of frustration as her aunt lapsed into Greek, sweeping away into the formal living area. Several candles sprang to life before her.

"Oh! The delicious Apprentice! Ana said you've never spoken about a young witch like this with such _pride_ before. Are we sure it's simply pride?" She slid Dia a sly glance. "Oh well! Where is she? I want to get a good look at her!"

Dia bit back a comment about her aunt speaking of Hermione like a piece of meat at the market, instead choosing to intercept both witches as they made to move in toward the main hallway. She threw out an arm.

"Stop. You both know it's far too early! I need you both to leave now before said apprentice arrives and questions the sanity of my closest family," she ground out, attempting to keep her voice low. Yiayia fairly pouted. A familiar tickle indicated that Hermione was aware and curious of the visitors.

"Dia darling, you keep far too many rules. The poor dear has been cooped up on this silly island with no one but you and the Elves for company. Likely, I can provide a little spice for the witchling," Yiayia said, tipping a devious smile. She gave a small shimmy of her shoulders while Dia's tired mind immediately flashed to Hermione's early morning appearance.

"She doesn't need any more spice," she said before she could stop herself. Ana bristled and mumbled something undoubtedly snarky under her breath. Dia ignored her and took her aunt by the shoulders as she switched to Greek.

"Please, Theia. My rules exist for a reason. Now, I promise to stop by later this week, but it truly has been a trying day. This is not the time," she pleaded quietly.

Yiayia rolled her eyes and huffed, one hand settling on her hip as she gestured to Ana to put the basket down.

Her niece glared and made no move to do so, so Dia whipped out her wand and vanished the basket away to the lab. The two witches exchanged a glance before Dia unceremoniously shuffled them backward toward the foyer, feeling a familiar presence drawing closer. _Not now!_

"Come now, theia… you haven't seen Yiayia in a month. Let the rules bend just this once?" Ana asked sweetly. Dia glared and continued to push them back as Yiayia made sputtering sounds of protest.

"No. Do not test me today, anipsiá mou… I see you have not learned your place," she growled quietly. Ana's lips thinned and Dia felt a margin of satisfaction at seeing the witch's cheeks redden slightly. _Serves her right._

"Master Kallas?"

The quiet query from the hallway threshold caused everyone to freeze. With a sinking feeling, Dia started to turn - managing to catch a nearly maniacal expression of glee manifest on Yiayia's face as the elder witch extended both arms in delight.

Hermione stood at the threshold to the hallway, looking exhausted and worn, her work robes wrinkled and dotted in mystery substances. Dia suppressed the urge to wince.

 _Not the best first impression._

"Apprentice!" Yiayia fairly shouted, moving past Dia with more agility than a witch of her age should have had. Ana paused off her shoulder and Dia glared when she saw her niece sizing up the young witch with a critical eye.

"Young one, I am Eleftheria Kefalas, matriarch of this family! _Welcome_ to Greece!" Yiayia gushed, wrapping her arms around Hermione and nearly enveloping her in the blue silk of her robes. Dia resisted the urge to palm her forehead. _The witch has only been on Naxos for a year and a half, theia!_

"Thank you," Hermione replied uncertainly, giving the unfamiliar witch a smile. Yiayia frowned and grasped Hermione's shoulders a bit tighter, "What? Dia don't you feed the girl? So thin! And here I'm sure you're already abusing her as a workhorse! Where are Eleni and Stelios! We will have _words!_ "

Dia felt the thin veneer of her patience crack.

"Stop this at once!" she commanded loudly. Hermione was staring at Yiayia with a half-bewildered, half-amused expression as the elder witch pinched her cheeks.

Dia schooled her features into something more serene before she continued.

"I appreciate your visit, however I respectfully must ask you both to leave. As you can _see_ , both my apprentice and I need rest. We will begin another long session in the morning with the ingredients Ana has so graciously brought us," she said, proud of herself for keeping her voice level. Hermione was looking at her curiously.

"Don't be a sour salamander," Yiayia began, but Dia cut her off with a look. Her aunt dropped her arms and stepped back from Hermione with a wounded expression. Huffing, Yiayia plucked up her robes with one hand and waved the other in front of her.

"Fine. I see where I am not wanted. Angeliki, come here. Help this ailing witch back to the door…" she said. Ana swept forward, tossing her red curls over one shoulder as she took Yiayia's hand, sparing Hermione an arching glance.

Yiayia leaned on her grandniece heavily as Ana patted her back theatrically. Dia suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

"Theia, peace. I shall visit you soon," she said gently.

"Lovely to meet you," Hermione murmured politely. Dia sent her a soft look noting the heaviness surrounding the younger witch's typically straight posture. They both needed to sleep.

"I didn't even learn her name, Dee-yahhh!"

Her aunt's childish whining finally broke the last thread of Dia's patience.

"Theia, are you six?" she exclaimed angrily, curls nearly whipping her cheek as she sent Yiayia a glare. Her aunt merely brushed back her hair with a flourish.

" _Oof, you're so easy to ruffle_ ," she retorted in Greek. At Dia's exasperated expression she switched back to English for Hermione's benefit. "You used to appreciate my sense of humor so much as a child. I still maintain those Brits corrupted you. They're so stuffy. No offense, darling."

The last bit was tossed offhand toward Hermione.

"Hermione," her apprentice said helpfully, moving with the two witches as they made their way to the foyer.

"OH, but that's _Greek!_ " Yiayia exclaimed, moving to throw her arm over Hermione again. "What a lovely name! What a _good omen!_ Oh, Dia, this is simply _too good!_ "

"Unhand my apprentice and be on your way please," Dia implored, trying not to sound too desperate. From the flash of Ana's eyes she wasn't entirely successful and her protests fell on deaf ears.

Yiayia fluttered about Hermione, prattling on about how much she had heard of her accomplishments while the young witch nodded dutifully, an amused smile playing about her lips. Dia's eyes widened in dismay and she had to stop herself from forcefully breaking the two apart.

"Theia, I can see your blood pressure rising. It's not attractive," Ana whispered, drawing close to Dia's ear. "Let Yiayia have her fun… after all, your apprentice seems to appreciate the attention." She gave a simpering smile. Dia felt her face flush in anger.

"Watch your tongue, Angeliki," she snapped in Greek. Ana simply smirked, content to have riled her aunt to reaction. Both Hermione and Yiayia looked over in surprise at her tone.

 _Enough of this._

Inhaling deeply, Dia stepped back and pried Hermione out of Yiayia's hold. Stepping in front of her apprentice protectively, she glared at the two witches who were exchanging a knowing look.

"I am going to count to three. You both have until then to leave before I hex you both!" she managed through gritted teeth. Yiayia scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"One," Dia said, narrowing her eyes. Sighing, her aunt gave a small curtsy toward her apprentice.

"Lovely to meet you, darling Hermione," she said sincerely, blowing a kiss.

"Pleasure," Ana tossed off with an insincere smile, somehow managing to convey the exact opposite. Dia made a mental note to reprimand her niece later for her childish behavior.

"Two!" she said firmly. Yiayia waved her hands overhead.

"All right! All right! We're going! Don't get your knickers in a twist… Achh! Such a frustrated little sorcerette you are!"

The two witches swept to the front door, Ana opening it with a flourish. Yiayia tossed her short black curls as she turned, stepping onto the threshold alongside Ana. The older witch extended both hands toward them in a strange sort of wave and her long blue nails flashed in the candlelight.

"Au revoir my darlings! Don't be strangers!" she crowed. She moved to draw her wand and before Dia could frown in confusion, Yiayia feinted and pointed a triumphant finger toward her. "We'll see you _both_ tomorrow at Anastos! Eeee!"

"THEIA!"

The older witch cackled in delight, easily flicking away the stream of hexes Dia sent in frustration. The flashes were absorbed by the adobe walls as the two witches joined hands and disappeared in a flash of bright white smoke.

Silence descended upon the villa with their departure and Dia immediately smoothed her robes and squared her shoulders, embarrassed at how quickly her aunt and niece had gotten under her skin.

 _Sweet Socrates, Diamantina_.

"They were nice," Hermione said softly, breaking through her self-recriminations.

 _She can't be serious._

Dia turned in disbelief and saw the mischievous twinkle in her apprentice's eyes. Torn between wanting to swear in frustration and laugh out of general principle, she chose the latter… feeling a combined sense of relief and exhaustion as she wiped her eyes.

"Oh, my darling," Dia sighed, moving closer and placing both hands on Hermione's shoulders. Whatever she had been about to say next died on her lips as caramel eyes met hers and full lips smiled tiredly down at her. Dia felt a rush of appreciation for the young woman before her.

In the candlelight, her apprentices' eyes seemed much larger than usual. Those same eyes had watched their brews attentively for hours, alert and alight with intelligence, never losing focus or straying from the task at hand. She was sensitive… perceptive.

Dia let her gaze drift quietly over her apprentice's face, one hand moving up slightly to play with the small tendrils that had escaped the heavy braid holding back the mane of curls. _Her skin is so smooth_ …

Her eyes were drawn to long lashes casting light shadows over the delicate cheekbones which were covered in a dusting of freckles. Rosy lips beckoned and Dia's gaze flicked up to catch the witch's eyes again…

Her breath caught her throat as she absorbed Hermione's open, trusting expression. The young woman watched her observing - unperturbed by her mentor's sudden silence or searching gaze.

 _This is not the time, Diamantina._

Breaking the moment with a sigh, Dia let her fingers trail down the witch's arms until they arrived to her hands. She ignored the younger witch's slight shiver and her own twisting sensation of regret, and instead began leading her through the living area toward the direction of her personal rooms.

"Come, we must discuss many things, Hermione," Dia finally said, her voice low.

"Master?"

The breathy hint of uncertainty in Hermione's question did not go unnoticed and Dia patted her arm reassuringly, suddenly feeling entirely drained and empty. Her family's impromptu visit had been the icing on the cake. _Nothing untoward, my darling._

"Let us retire to my chambers. I wish for us to be comfortable," Dia explained tiredly.

They would have this conversation. It would not do to wait.

As they moved toward her personal sanctuary, Dia told herself it was the nature of the strange day and evening that she was allowing Hermione to enter her private space… Like many of her unspoken rules, she had learned over time to build a professional relationship with her apprentices before permitting them to enter other areas of her life, including her personal chambers.

 _All of your plans are askew. Might as well finish on the same note._

She tried her best to believe her own words.

* * *

 _A/N: I realize I haven't been including translations! Sorry!_

 _theia - aunt_  
 _anipsiá mou - my niece_  
 _yiayia - grandmother_  
 _kopelia mou - my doll, darling_

 _*Yiayia is Dia's aunt and technically Ana's great-aunt, however it's my intention that they use the title of "grandmother" with affection... we'll learn more about the family dynamics and reasoning for that later. :)_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Have you ever held a long, winding conversation with someone that took you on an unexpected roller coaster ride through your own emotions? Did it ever leave you somewhat dazed and bewildered, unsure of how you managed to talk yourselves from Point A to B to Z to F to M...?_

 _Well..._

 _... Enjoy! (And bear with me.)_

* * *

Hermione experienced a surreal floating sensation as Dia led them toward the one wing of the villa she had never explored. Her master held her hand lightly as they moved through the darkened halls, seemingly subdued after their rather colorful interaction with her family.

Their bond seemed to thrum slightly and Hermione noted absently that they were walking in perfect synchronization. She felt their shared exhaustion and overall numbness setting in and a thread of something different that she couldn't quite place. Something like nostalgia or melancholy.

The french doors at the end of the hall opened before them and several hundred white candles winked into flame as they entered a beautiful, spacious sitting area.

The entire room resonated in shades of white, ivory, and light blue, similar to the décor throughout the rest of the villa, but as Hermione looked around curiously, she noted that everything seemed much cozier and less formal than the rest of the home. The entire wall off their left appeared to be floor-to-ceiling windows covered in gauzy, white curtains similar to the ones in Hermione's room.

Overhead, high ceilings revealed natural wood beams beneath which hovered white tea lights drifting lazily through the open space. The room itself seemed to be split into two areas. To their immediate left, the room opened into a square sitting area complete with a white L-shaped sofa featuring some rather plush-looking pillows, a rather elegant chaise lounge, and a small ivory chesterfield draped with what looked to be a hand-knitted throw. A low wood coffee table sat in the center with a small island of white candles and an open edition of _Transfiguration Today_.

On the other side of the room, the white flagstones stopped at a small set of wide adobe stairs that led into an open study. The wall on the right featured bookshelves completely packed full of colorful texts and artfully arranged trinkets, and the far wall held another set of French doors that appeared opened into another outdoor terrace. In the center of the study, lay a plush white carpet upon which sat a large, natural wood desk that was remarkably clear aside from a plethora of glowing white candles.

It was obvious from other areas of the villa that Master Kallas preferred candlelight to any other means of illumination, but Hermione was struck by the added number of white candles throughout her chambers. They seemed to glow from every surface - a low wall streaming behind the L-shaped couch, the coffee table, the desk and bookcase. Even the adobe stairs boasted a few artfully placed pillar candles. The easy, twinkling light drenched the room in an easy, romantic glow and Hermione found herself gaping at the sight.

 _This is heavenly..._

As she turned to comment upon the room's beauty, Hermione's mouth went dry and she found herself backpedaling in surprise.

Master Kallas stood facing away from her, in the process of unwrapping her robes.

The witch's braid had been unwound - dark curls spilling down her back like a waterfall. Her heavy blue robes were quickly vanished and for a moment Hermione swore her heart stopped as Master Kallas unwrapped the lighter second layer and her lithe, feminine silhouette was revealed against the backdrop of candlelight.

A second later the witch turned and Hermione flushed, quickly averting her eyes, afraid to be caught staring at her master who wore a rather sheer silk slip. _Get a grip! You've seen her in her swimsuit and that reveals more!_

"Please make yourself comfortable, Hermione," Master Kallas said wearily, gesturing at Hermione's robes and toward the room at large. The elder witch sighed softly and moved over to plop down on the chaise lounge in a completely undignified manner that was somehow more jarring than her state of dress.

"Would you like wine?" Master Kallas asked, seafoam eyes flicking up to meet Hermione's.

"N-no thank you," she managed, blushing slightly when Master Kallas gave her a small knowing smile. Hermione watched as the witch summoned a bottle of Merlot and poured herself a generous glass, still attempting to absorb this new, unexpectedly casual side of her master.

"While your rather charming attempt at impersonating a Greek statue is indeed beautiful, we've shared a long day and I suggest you sit, darling," Master Kallas said, still focused on the wine.

Hermione sat.

… and bit back a groan as her body sank into the sofa's welcoming embrace. _Merlin, this thing has to be charmed!_

"Comfortable, no? That's why I generally sit here, otherwise I would never get any work done," Master Kallas chuckled, lifting her glass toward Hermione in a gentle salute.

Hermione shifted and wrinkled her nose, pausing a moment as her work robes bunched unpleasantly. There was a brief moment of indecision as she debated whether or not to remove a set and take her master up on her offer to be more comfortable. _You wore that swimsuit this morning…_

Swiftly rising, she vanished the first set of heavy robes and loosened the ties on the second so that the light fabric opened slightly, revealing her simple cotton underwear beneath. For a moment she thought she saw her master's gaze darken appreciatively but then the more formal side of the witch reasserted itself as she crossed her legs demurely.

"You did very well today, Hermione," her master said approvingly, looking over the wine glass with an intent expression.

"Thank you… it was…" Hermione trailed off, eyes and hands searching for the right words. Master Kallas tilted her head slightly and smiled.

"Different than you expected, no?"

Hermione nodded mutely, her tired mind unable to put words to her dual sense of achievement and personal challenge. There were still so many small details she wanted to review. So many questions. But beneath those things, she felt a deep sense of calm. Of _rightness_.

Of her two apprenticeships, Potions came the least naturally to her. It had been a personal challenge to pursue a field for which she possessed very little aptitude and that had made itself clear in the first several months of her studies. She had always taken to Transfiguration like a duck to water, but truthfully, Hermione had never excelled in Potions beyond the classic Hogwarts curriculum.

Her sixth-year studies had made that critically apparent when Harry's ratty, used Potions textbook suddenly deviated from the standard recipes and yet consistently yielded better results. It had been an infuriating, humbling, and entirely rattling experience for Hermione and she had suddenly realized that the written word only accounted for a portion of one's knowledge.

It had been an epiphany with nowhere to go and before Hermione could address what felt like a monumental shift in her understanding of educational practices, her sixth year had concluded, Albus Dumbledore had been killed, and her life had taken on an entirely new and precarious trajectory. Or so she had thought. She had been surprised to discover her earnest interest in the discipline after passing her N.E.W.T.s. Transfiguration had always been a given, but Hermione had never been one for the easy road. Re-examining her interests had suddenly revealed her latent curiosity.

Why _had_ Harry's textbook been more successful than the standard? What did the Half-Blood Prince _know_ that she didn't? It was a compelling mystery, and Hermione realized it was one that would continue to reassert itself over and over if she didn't delve deeper.

After today, however… she realized that there was indeed a strong passion simmering just beneath the surface. The months of rote memorization and rudimentary exercises in knife cuts, types of stirs, and ladling, had finally manifested into something compelling. Today she had been pushed well beyond her comfort zone… and she had actually enjoyed it. Brewing was _sensual_. Instinctual. Precise yet messy. It was a blend of many things that didn't come naturally for her, but therein lay the challenge.

Master Kallas shifted, moving a pillow beneath one elbow as she watched Hermione with a silky, Cheshire cat expression. Flushing, Hermione realized she had remained silent for several minutes, lost in her own thoughts.

"Sorry," she murmured, shifting slightly and smiling guiltily. "There's a lot I'm still processing… I was just thinking that today revealed several of my own challenges in a new light. I… I want to do it again. I think I'm looking forward to tomorrow - there are several things I want to try to integrate into my brewing practice."

Master Kallas nodded approvingly.

"Your vestibular system will have a chance to rest, process, and integrate while you sleep. You will be surprised tomorrow at how much your kinesthetic memory will allow you to achieve. Tomorrow's challenge will be different - you will be tired, the mind sluggish. The more you can tap into your body's initial instincts, the easier it will be," she said.

Master Kallas took a sip of wine and tucked her legs beneath her. Again, Hermione experienced a strange jolt at seeing her proper master so… at ease. Ever perceptive, the other witch sniffed lightly in amusement.

"You are seeing a part of me that I usually don't allow apprentices to witness until well into their second classification," she said. Hermione stilled, unsure of what to say.

"Tonight as well… I never allow apprentices to unwind in my personal chambers…" the witch spoke softly and Hermione didn't know whether she was expected to comment, apologize, or question. A moment later, however, Master Kallas' eyes flicked to hers and she gave her a long look.

"This leads me to the discussion we must have, Hermione."

The witch opened her hand and the wine glass floated back to the table on its own. Hermione felt a thrum of anticipation and anxiety, completely unprepared for whatever conversation her master was about to initiate.

"The events of today have opened a new door for us. It means we will not be adhering to the schedule I had initially developed," Master Kallas said calmly. A moment later her eyes dropped and her thin fingers pulled at a lock of her hair. Experiencing another jolt of surrealism, Hermione realized that the other witch was nervous. Curious, she sat forward.

"What does that mean?" she asked softly.

Master Kallas kept her eyes trained on her hands as she continued quietly, "The Transfiguration Society has called a Quorum. No, that is incorrect. A Quorum has been requested by the International Confederation of Wizards." Her light gaze flicked up to meet Hermione's.

"The last time a Quorum was convened at the behest of the ICW was during the rise of Grindelwald… it is a very rare occurrence and a very large request," she explained. Again, Hermione felt a flicker of anxiety through their bond. Still she remained silent, unasked questions undoubtedly swimming in her eyes.

"A Quorum consists of twelve witches or wizards who hold the highest levels of Mastery within our discipline. The wands are drawn at random by whomever was contacted with the request - in this case, Master Admetus Clemént Nettleship of Switzerland. At the moment there about twenty-five of us who could serve," she paused, looking distantly at the candles flickering on the coffee table.

Hermione noted her use of the word "us," feeling a small surge of pride at having confirmation that her master was indeed one of the best in her field.

 _I knew_ _it_.

"Minerva will be serving," she mumbled softly and Hermione wasn't sure if she was meant to hear that aside. The witch swallowed and shifted, returning to look at Hermione directly.

"Do you understand why this is such disturbing news?" she asked.

 _No._

Hermione frowned, thinking.

"Well… I don't understand why the ICW would need to call a Quorum unless some aspect of the attacks was directly tied to Transfiguration in a way that would demand confirmation or acknowledgement from the highest masters," she started, thinking aloud.

Master Kallas nodded.

 _All right..._

"Which… I suppose would indicate that there is more to these attacks than have been mentioned in public press? Some aspect of Transfiguration that was used that they need help with? Like a consultation?"

Master Kallas sat stiffly, nodding again and gesturing her for to continue.

"Yes. What else?"

 _What else?_ _Think, Hermione._

"And this is concerning because… I'm assuming the meeting will have to be public knowledge, right? Which, we still don't know the identities of the perpetrators which means…" she trailed off, feeling the hair on her neck stand on end as her mind raced ahead.

"Which means that those serving on the Quorum will be outed. They are the best in our field which means they hold the key to solving the puzzle of either the nature of the violations or the identity of those responsible," she finished, knowing her brows had lifted in worry. _  
_  
Master Kallas nodded grimly.

 _Circe's Tits! Is there no such thing as an undercover investigation in this world?_

"What else?" Master Kallas asked patiently, light eyes persuading Hermione to continue. She took a small sip of wine. Incredulous, Hermione sat back, chewing on one lip.

 _This is bad. This is bad bad bad… Twelve people are going to be outed as masters simply for acting as consultants because the ICW has a problem too big to solve…_

A lightbulb went off in her mind.

Startled, she looked at Master Kallas who sat, nodding her head at the epiphany.

 _Oh shit._

"But if the ICW couldn't determine the nature of the Transfiguration used in the attacks… it means that whomever is responsible has high-level abilities. Meaning, it's likely one of our own," she finished in a whisper, horrified by the idea.

 _How are they going to contain this? How is this possibly a good idea?_

Master Kallas sat back, gaze drifting away as she took a deep breath and resettled.

"The last time a Quorum convened we were not alone. Grindelwald managed to sway several high-level witches and wizards over to his side and their identities were already well-known to the general Wizarding population. Three societies convened in a joint effort to stop them - Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. The ICW acted as mediator and it was a closed session, meaning only the masters serving were known to each other, minimizing the level of public scrutiny. This was before my time," Master Kallas explained. Her face fell slightly and a crease appeared between her brows.

"This time, however, we are all going in blind and the session has been opened to the entire Transfiguration society. It is unclear at this point how much the ICW will mediate and how much they will simply observe. I believe they intend us to solve this from within," she said, still frowning.

"That's ludicrous! How could they ask that? How could the ICW possibly ensure everyone's safety, even if we are amongst ourselves?" Hermione exclaimed angrily, almost afraid to hear the answer. Master Kallas sighed, fiddling with her curl again.

"They have control over the location which will be the greatest help to us. Atlantis continues to remain the greatest Magical stronghold known to history," she replied thoughtfully.

 _What?_

Hermione frowned and shook her head. Master Kallas reached for her wine, sipping it quietly and then quirking her head in question when Hermione remained silent.

"I'm sorry, but did you say _Atlantis?_ " she asked after a moment. Master Kallas raised an eyebrow.

"Do you know of a different island by that name?"

Hermione sat forward and lifted a hand, punctuating each word with her finger.

"Do. You. Mean. To. Tell. Me. That. Atlantis. Is. _Real?"_ she asked angrily. Master Kallas' eyes widened slowly and she set her glass down again swiftly.

"My apologies, Hermione. I didn't think - I mean, I didn't realize it must still not be taught in standard curriculum," she rushed, unexpectedly stumbling over her words. Her light gaze swept over Hermione's face with concern, clearly unsure of the impending response.

"It's real. It's really real? Are you fucking with me?" she finally managed, pinning her master with a hard look. With both eyebrows lifted now, Master Kallas seemed to be teetering on the verge of amusement and worry.

 _There's an entire magical island out there and I didn't know about it? How is that possible?_

"Don't be angry, darling. You are not alone in not knowing," she began reassuringly, lifting a hand in a placating gesture.

Tired and suddenly irate beyond measure, Hermione held up a hand and interrupted her master in a gesture she had seen Eleni give a hundred times. No no no.

"Don't patronize me, Master! There's apparently an entire fucking island out there that _I_ didn't know about. That seems like more than a simple oversight to me _especially_ considering it's about to host one of the most important magical meetings of our time!"

Fuming, Hermione realized she had somehow leapt to her feet and was staring down at Master Kallas with clenched fists. The elder witch looked up at her in surprise. A moment later, a wave of comfort washed through her and Hermione realized it was her master calming her through their bond.

"Let me explain the history to you, hmm? There is an easy remedy toward solving unawareness," Master Kallas said lightly, gesturing to the sofa.

Covering her embarrassment with grumpiness, Hermione sat heavily and crossed her arms like a petulant child. Master Kallas shot her an amused look, flicking a finger and sending the wine glass Hermione's way.

 _Wine isn't going to fix this, witch._

The glass proceeded to bump into her knee gently and Hermione frowned at it for long moment before giving in and taking it, sipping silently as she pinned her master with a pointed look. A ripple of her master's amusement passed over her.

"Firstly, I appreciate your candor. I do not allow many to speak to me in such a manner, but your passion is... _persuasive_ ," Master Kallas said, shifting to stretch her legs and prop her chin on a fist casually. Her light eyes sparkled.

"To answer the source of this oversight, we must go back in time. Very far back, several thousand years ago," she started, gazing at Hermione in a soft way that made her feel like squirming. Master Kallas had allowed her outburst without so much as a significant look. She felt self-conscious niggle of guilt.

 _But if there's anything I truly **hate** , it's not knowing something vitally important! How could I not have known?!_

Master Kallas raised a dark eyebrow and Hermione let her inner monologue fall silent.

"Atlantis has always been a stronghold of magic, much like other communities and cities that have arisen all over the world. Alexandria. Djenné. Cuzco. Salem. Long before the ISOS, Atlantis was far more unguarded than other magical locations for the simple fact of being an island. Witches and wizards lived freely, able to revel in their abilities and test research amongst themselves without the worry of prying Muggle eyes."

Hermione felt herself settling, falling into the rhythm of her master's practiced storytelling with ease. The wine didn't hurt either.

"Eventually the island earned a reputation in both worlds for being a center of innovation and commerce. We know that Muggles were aware of Atlantean power to an extent, of course, because of the key writings of Plato. However, much to our amusement, he was wrong about several important details."

Master Kallas beckoned with her index finger and the wineglass returned to her. She paused a moment to lean forward and refill it and Hermione was graced with a rather generous view of the witch's chest. _Holy Helga… there are too many things to take in today._

"Firstly, Plato describes Atlantis as being a landmass larger than Libya and Asia Minor. That is incorrect. It is a respectable size island, and… as with many places and locations of Magical influence and invention, subject to _change_. Plato likely imagined it to be larger that it is much in the way magical houses appear larger on the inside than their exterior suggests," she paused to see if Hermione was following. She nodded, watching dark fingers grasp the stem of the glass gently.

"Second, his location was wrong, though no one has the ability to truly correct it. Atlantis is actually fairly close to us within the Mediterranean, though its has been rendered Unplottable and the exact coordinates are Secret-Kept. Commerce and transport to and from the island are highly monitored through a system of Portkeys and Trans-Apparative Gateways. An Anti-Apparation Net covers the island making Apparation to and from the Atlantis impossible, but it remains accessible from within only at the specific gateways scattered across the island."

Hermione wondered at the power and sustainability at hiding an entire island. Most magical locations employed a series of wards to keep them secret and hidden from Muggle eyes and technology, but what Master Kallas was explaining indicated an entirely separate and mind-bogglingly complex level of magic. A host of questions burned in her mind, but she remained silent, wanting to absorb as much as possible.

"Plato's writings essentially boil the story down to an epic tale of good versus evil. The Atlanteans were the main culprits and the Athenians were the victors. Our own history is a bit smudged on the topic, but we can _imagine_ that over time it became more and more difficult to keep Atlantis a secret from the burgeoning Greek, Cretan, and Minoan societies developing around it. Atlantis is indeed a wondrous testament to some of the proudest examples of Wizarding achievement - Architecture being one of them. It became difficult to explain such obvious and fantastic advancements made upon similar developments happening in the Muggle world. The size and scale of the Atlantean power grew too great for mere Disillusionments."

Master Kallas paused, and sipped her wine, brushing an errant curl away from her neck.

"Some of the best and brightest witches and wizards of the age gathered, and, if accounts are to be believed - in a truly explosive burst of magical ability, they managed to conceal Atlantis from the world. Thus, the island was removed from the annals of Muggle history and it was believed that the entire Atlantean civilization was destroyed."

"If what you say is true, then why have I never heard of it?" Hermione asked indignantly, still unable to fathom that such an important piece of Wizarding history had been overlooked. _If this is Binns' fault, so help me, I'm marching back to Hogwarts tomorrow!_

Master Kallas held up a hand. Patience.

"Atlantis remained both a well-kept secret and common knowledge to the Wizarding world for quite a long time afterward. Eventually, as the Hellenic empires rose and fell, there was a gradual migration and spread of magical ability to all throughout Europe. To coin a term, the island fell out of vogue. It has always been inhabited by the Magical community, but for a number of centuries its population declined."

Master Kallas sipped the wine languidly before sending the glass back over.

Though she was intent on hearing the rest of the story of Atlantis and this was essentially a lecture of sorts, Hermione was beginning to relax in a way that she hadn't experienced in quite a long time. She _had_ demanded the story after all… But something in the simple action of sharing a wineglass made Hermione feel different - as if they were two friends or equals rather than master and apprentice. It was rather... _nice_.

"The age before the ISOS was incredibly tumultuous. Muggles, particularly the Church, were hell-bent on waging war against the Wizarding world and essentially pursuing genocide against us. For a time our community was splintered. This was before the age of Ministries - before we had systems and leaders to turn to who could enact plans of action that would ensure secrecy _and_ protection. Each person or family had to fend for themselves. Those with greater resources, education, and abilities were met with greater success… many of their descendants continue to prosper throughout Europe as what we now call Pureblood families."

Hermione sniffed, her mind jumping to Malfoys immediately. Somehow she couldn't imagine Draco's forebears as innovative leaders during the Dark Ages. _Likely they just paid everyone else off..._

"Eventually however, at great risk and peril, again the best and brightest minds of the age met and decided that the issue had grown too great. Though a number of local governments had stepped in and a few small armies had amassed to counter the growing threat, the wisest of the era convened and agreed that it was time for the Magical community to withdraw from the Muggle eye. We looked to them in trust and confidence and thus, the International Statute of Secrecy was signed."

Master Kallas' voice was like silk. Smooth and elegant, it carried her words in an effortless flow that captured Hermione's imagination in ways that she had never before experienced. Granted, anything was probably better than listening to the monotonous drone of a ghost during her History of Magic classes, but still… While she had scored an Outstanding in her N.E.W.T.s for the subject, somehow Master Kallas' retelling of well-known events infused the stories with more passion and wonder than Hermione had ever thought such dated events could possess.

Enthralled, she felt herself leaning forward as the witch continued.

"It was agreed however, that a Magical world order was needed. In times of crisis or concern, there must be an international organization that can be contacted should the Muggle threat ever escalate and terrorize us again; A wise, impartial group that we can turn to for assistance and protection. That first meeting of notable witches and wizards became the first incarnation of such an organization."

"The ICW," Hermione breathed. Master Kallas nodded. "The ICW," she affirmed.

Combing a hand through her curls, Master Kallas leaned back and reclined somewhat, continuing to gaze at Hermione through lidded eyes.

"It became clear in time that the ICW would need a place to convene. Someplace well-protected where significant numbers of magical folk would be able to meet in secret without drawing undue attention. Someplace where magic was deeply embedded into the fabric of the earth and able to be accessed in times of need."

"Atlantis."

Duh. It was so obvious. Mentally, Hermione was kicking herself. _How_ in the name of Merlin and Morgana had it never occurred to her that the ICW would need a physical location to call home? Granted, her history books had given the impression that the confederation didn't really need to convene very often.

 _Which is good_ , she supposed. _It means they're doing their job if there are no major meetings._

But still. Even though local Ministries and Bureaus oversaw local communities and populations, who was checking to ensure that international laws were being abided and cared for? Who was writing and enforcing those laws?

 _Rowena's right buttock, you're completely daft!_

Hermione was nodding to herself, still bewildered she had made such a gross misstep of her intellect.

"Why is it not common knowledge?" she asked eventually.

At that, Master Kallas wrinkled her nose slightly and pulled a face. Who was this new witch and where had her master disappeared? Hermione felt a swooping sensation in her chest as she realized she found it incredibly endearing.

 _Calm down, girl._

"For the most part, continued secrecy been an effort to minimize criticism and interference of the ICW itself. If people don't know where to send criticism, things can continue as they are. Personally, I believe governmental organizations are most effective when they are transparent and the ICW's effort to protect itself from international judgment is misguided, self-serving, and entirely misplaced. An educated population is a safe population, in my opinion," Master Kallas said forcefully, tossing her curls.

Hermione had to agree.

"Officially, however, it's also a concerted effort to keep the island protected. I find this reasoning to be a bit more palatable. Atlantis is small. It cannot host a wave of tourists even if they are magical, and at this point the ICW is largely responsible for the entire landmass. It is not a vacation spot despite its natural beauty and those who are visiting are either part of an inquiry, consultation, convocation, or official office. There simply isn't space nor reason for people to visit," she said.

Hermione frowned slightly.

"So no one really _lives_ there?"

"To be honest, I don't really know. I imagine a majority of people commute, particularly those who work in the capital of Aetherion. However, like any city, it hosts a number of smaller businesses and establishments. Beyond the capital, I know little. There are several temples to the north... though now that I think of it, it _must_ host a local population as certain temples exist only on Atlantis," Master Kallas frowned thoughtfully as her thin fingers stroked her chin. It was not often she was able to witness the witch in a state of not-knowing. Again, Hermione found it rather endearing.

 _Wait, how could she know so much about the island, unless..._

"But you've been there?" Hermione asked excitedly. Light eyes zeroed in on her own and narrowed.

"I have." Master Kallas' reply was curt and her lips thinned, effectively barring more questions. Before Hermione had the opportunity to feel disappointed, the elder witch shifted, sitting up to look at her directly. "Moreover, this draws us to the part of the discussion I was intent on bringing to you…"

With a jolt, Hermione realized they had spent the majority of the past half hour answering her questions instead of getting to her master's original point.

"Sorry…" Hermione mumbled.

 _Merlin, how long have we been talking? Master Kallas probably wants to go to sleep. Hell, **you** want to go to sleep. _

Master Kallas shook her head, black curls springing back and forth lightly.

"Never apologize for questions, Hermione," she said kindly. "Indeed, we have likely closed a gap in your education and opened several more… Tomorrow, I will provide you with further texts and references on Atlantis to read at your leisure."

Hermione felt a surge of emotion for the witch - gratitude and appreciation and… something else she couldn't define. Master Kallas simply resettled, sitting up slightly and crossing her legs again modestly.

"As we discussed earlier, an open Quorum of the Transfiguration society will be convened on Atlantis. I have inferred that it will likely be held concurrent to a conference of the ICW. The Quorum has been scheduled for the first week of December."

Hermione nodded and set the wineglass back on the coffee table.

The first week of December was in two weeks.

She surmised that an "open Quorum" meant that Master Kallas would have to attend, especially given that she herself could have served upon it. However, a concurrent conference of the ICW? That seemed rather suspicious… _How would they keep both meetings separate? What if there's overlap between people? Isn't that dangerous for the Quorum participants?_

A short moment later the witch confirmed her earlier guess.

"I am to attend," Master Kallas said with a strange sort of finality that indicated Hermione was supposed to glean some sort of point.

She didn't.

Master Kallas smiled slightly at her confusion.

"Hermione, as my Apprentice, that means _you_ must also attend. It is only appropriate," she gently explained.

 _Ohhh._

 _... Wait._

"So, we'll both be going to Atlantis," Hermione stated, feeling a thrill of excitement at the idea. Master Kallas nodded.

"Yes. However, there is much preparation was must do to ensure you are ready."

At that, Hermione felt a spike of anxiety. _Ready? Why ready? Are they going to test me?_

"As a first-classification apprentice, generally there would be little for you to worry about beyond becoming mind-numbingly weary at having to follow me about and attend to me in a truly unfortunate manner reminiscent of master and indentured servant."

Master Kallas wrinkled her nose again and Hermione felt a flash of amusement and relief.

"Fortunately for you, that has _never_ been my method. I do not believe in it. I do not appreciate it. I do not wish to partake in it as a tradition, however I must make it clear to you that despite the elevated nature of our discipline and the space we maintain within it, you are about to encounter one of the most aggravating aspects of our backwards Wizarding culture," Master Kallas spoke quickly and her irritation was fairly palpable.

"Both the Potions and Transfiguration society - and likely the others, though I am not privy to their inner-workings… are bound by traditions and a set of cultural expectations that enforce some of the least savory facets of Wizarding history, in my opinion."

Hermione nodded, attempting to understand.

"For ease of understanding, simply imagine a gathering of Pureblood witches and wizards and consider how they may behave and conduct themselves amongst each other," Master Kallas said, searching to see if Hermione understood. As Hermione's face registered her dismay, her master nodded.

"So you see how unpleasant it will be?"

Hermione nodded again, feeling rather ill. _Good Godric! If you aren't the biggest Muggleborn to ever grace the Quorum… Oh god, will they judge you for it?_

Before she could ask, Master Kallas rose suddenly, waving a hand agitatedly and relighting a few candles that had gone out. Blinking, Hermione sat up, willing her tired mind to respond to the undoubtedly important information that her master was about to impart.

She suddenly felt exhausted, queasy, and more than a little overwhelmed at all the information she had absorbed and was continuing to absorb in the space of the last twenty-four hours.

 _Keep it together, girl._

"As I said, generally as a first-classification apprentice you would have little to worry about. However for better or worse, you are anything but general and this is an extraordinary set of circumstances we find ourselves in."

Hermione watched her master pace behind the chesterfield, the queasy feeling beginning to assert itself even more. The witch's words continued to echo. _You are anything but general…_

"You are a notable witch, Hermione, and that makes you _interesting_. Undoubtedly we will receive extra attention because of who we are… however in this case it could be a disadvantage. A security risk. We must be cautious. Incredibly cautious…" Master Kallas spoke quickly as she paced and Hermione was unsure whether she was still speaking directly to her or simply thinking out loud. One hand had drifted to her chin and the witch's face was slightly hidden behind her mane of curls.

There had been a flicker of curiosity at the inclusive phrase, "because of who we are," but Hermione chose to simply swallow and stand. Clearly her master needed her assistance.

"What must I do?" she asked quietly.

Across the room, Master Kallas froze, her face still obscured.

"Oh, darling…"

Unexpectedly, Master Kallas simply turned looked at her for a long moment, biting a full lip. A range of emotions played across her beautiful features while Hermione waited, unsure of what her master would instruct.

"I have every confidence in you," Master Kallas whispered so quietly Hermione wasn't even sure that she heard her.

A moment later, the witch was pacing again - hands clasped behind her back, her thin slip fluttering about her thighs. She spoke quickly and Hermione's overtaxed mind struggled to process the flood of information.

"Tomorrow, as my aunt so gracefully mentioned earlier… we will begin by traveling to Athens in the afternoon to fit your robes and commission your apprenticeship sigils. It will help you to step into the intricacies of this role you must master. Appearances in both societies are important as they reveal our networks, histories, affinities, and abilities in a myriad of subtle coding."

 _Coding? Wha-? Whatever. New robes tomorrow. Got it._

"The first true challenge will come in the form of language. I will be giving you the transcripts from the most recent conference on Transfigurative Methodology, as well as several as-of-yet unpublished articles from _Transfiguration Today_. Beyond versing yourself in the basics of contemporary theory, you must also begin to understand the antiquated manner in which society operates, namely the difficult nature of how we must speak. I will have Stelios begin tutoring you as well. He is remarkably skilled when it comes to the affected speech of high society and how to turn an elegant phrase. As a first-classification apprentice, you should not be spoken to without my prior acquiescence, however I just know…" Master Kallas trailed off, waving a hand as if to clear smoke, "The point is that you must quickly assimilate the language of society in the rare, but inevitable event that you will be recognized and addressed. I will not have either one of us caught off guard."

Despite Master Kallas' apparent concern for Hermione's communicative abilities, Hermione felt a spark of interest. Languages had always come easily to her and she continued to love and admire the intricacies of Muggle literature and prose as well as the works of a number of foreign writers. _Language is something I can do._

"The second will come in the form of behavior. Though I loathe to subject you to the presence of my family, Yiayia is the consummate professional of proper etiquette. You must learn the subtle intricacies from her. Disregard the impression you received this evening. When she wishes, she can behave."

At that, Hermione felt a rise of antipathy. Etiquette and other forms of controlled behavior were things that grated on her sense of feminism and individual expression. Her parents had raised her to be forthright and honest. The subversive methods she saw others using to get ahead felt disingenuous and ridiculous to her.

Besides, she was about as subtle as a thunderclap.

"The rest is unimportant. But what I truly must know -" Master Kallas whirled around, interrupting herself and looking at Hermione with wide eyes as if she hadn't seen her in days. In a few powerful strides, she was standing close… eyes traveling over Hermione's face searchingly.

Hermione bit back the urge to shrink back, surprised at the other witch's proximity.

"Hermione, I must ask your intention beyond your first classifications. Have you given it any thought… do you intend…" the witch's voice was little more than a whisper, and for a moment Hermione thought she saw a flash of fear in those eyes.

But she must have imagined it, because she blinked and Master Kallas simply gazed at her, face open, waiting for a response.

What did she intend?

An array of images flashed through Hermione's mind.

Brewing. Swimming. Training. Eleni. Texts. Wandless magic.

Master Kallas had given her everything.

She was invigorated. Challenged. Supported.

What did she _intend?_

"It was and has always been my intention to remain with you through my third classifications and to re-evaluate my options from there. I cannot think of any event that would change my mind," Hermione replied, her voice low but firm. How could her master fathom anything otherwise?

Master Kallas closed her eyes in response and turned away, and Hermione felt herself move forward slightly. Was she upset? Angry? Did she not want to teach her any longer?

"Thank you," the witch replied softly, her voice thick with emotion. Hermione felt a pleasant shimmering sensation across her body that she couldn't name, but before she could open her mouth to ask what Master Kallas meant, the witch had moved closer, coming to place both hands on her shoulders.

Seafoam eyes gazed up into hers with a hint of regret.

"Hermione… in that case, I must ask you for something," Master Kallas whispered softly.

Hermione nodded mutely, again unsure of how to respond to her master's invasion of her personal space. She was torn between wanting to close the gap between them and shrinking away from the powerful draw the other woman seemed to hold over her. Those almond eyes seemed impossibly large.

"I _must_ ask you to submit your theses earlier. There are things I must begin to teach you that go beyond the curriculum of your first classifications. Events are in motion that are larger than both of us and our only opportunity to counteract them is to accelerate the nature of your studies. Please trust that I wouldn't ask if I didn't feel it were vital," Master Kallas said seriously, her lilting voice imploring.

Hermione's mind was swimming.

Vital? What was Master Kallas talking about? What events? The Quorum? Atlantis?

"I understand," she croaked even though she didn't. This was a challenge and she wasn't about to back down from it.

Master Kallas looked at her as if assessing the seriousness of her conviction and Hermione lifted her chin. A moment later, the witch nodded and released her hold on her shoulders.

"You must submit them by the fifteenth of December," she stated.

A spiral of horror sliced through Hermione's gut and she felt her mouth drop open. That left her a month! Potentially less! They had originally projected her first classifications to end sometime in April. At the most, she had thought her master meant to move her up to late January. _But a month?!_

"Hermione. You can't tell me they're not already half written," Master Kalas said with a gentle lift of one eyebrow. Hermione resisted the urge to splutter in indignation. _So what if they're half done? There still so much **more**_ _to do!_

A hand on her arm steadied her and she lifted her panicked gaze to her master's calm features.

"Be calm, my apprentice. I know what I ask is great, however I assure you I wouldn't have presented the challenge if I thought you would fail. I also remind you that it is _vital_ we adhere to this new timeline," Master Kallas said, squeezing her arm gently.

"I-I…. All right," Hermione managed, slumping slightly. She felt as though she were collapsing in on herself. A firm hand beneath her chin drew her eyes up and Master Kallas leaned forward, stepping to look up at her with a playful expression.

"Darling, do not doubt yourself. In the end, you are only in competition with yourself," she reminded her softly.

Hermione felt tears gathering in her eyes.

She was so overwhelmed. Tired. Confused. Uncertain.

Her master's words unraveled some of the fear that coiled itself around her heart, but there was _so much_ that suddenly felt unknown to her. The quiet safety of her surroundings and new life had been thrown into chaos and she didn't understand what it all meant.

Master Kallas seemed to understand her struggle, for a moment later, Hermione was enveloped into a warm embrace.

"Oh darling. Everything will unfold itself before you soon. I am with you and we will do this together," she whispered, her words tickling Hermione's ear.

The soft, solid body was reassuring and a moment later, Hermione felt her arms rise of their own accord to wrap around the smaller witch's body. Dark curls tickled her nose and she drew in a deep breath, inhaling the familiar reassuring scents of tea tree, eucalyptus, lavender and a hint of sweetness that was entirely unique to the woman in her arms.

They remained like that for a long moment, an unexpected blanket of comfort settling between the two of them and swirling through their shared bond as their energies combined and merged. Hermione felt her eyes close as her body settled into the embrace, feeling both weightless and supported.

And for an instant, it was the safest she had ever felt.

They both took a deep breath and then the moment passed.

Somehow, Hermione understood this was the abrupt and unexpected end to their evening. They were both exhausted. Their eight hour brewing session suddenly seemed as distant as the events of the early morning. Her mind felt full to the brim with too many things. Too many _big_ things.

The ISOS violations. Potions. Recipes. The Quorum. _Atlantis_. Her theses. The future. Master Kallas.

Opening her eyes to the dwindling candlelight, Hermione felt herself flush with an entirely different warmth as they began to draw apart. At the last moment, spurred by some unknown impulse, she turned her head and gently brushed her lips lightly over her master's.

The soft lips felt like liquid silk... warm, inviting...

And then it was over.

She felt a shudder through their bond that seemed to crackle along her skin like electricity.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered softly, her eyes trained on the full lips that were slightly parted in surprise.

Her master took a shuddering breath, unconsciously pressing closer…

A gentle hand came up to cup her cheek, the other wrapping behind her neck and Hermione felt herself melt into the touch willingly, easily...

Master Kallas rose onto her tiptoes lightly and pressed her lips against Hermione's forehead, murmuring something softly in Greek that she didn't catch. A moment later, she drew Hermione's forehead down to rest against her own, reaching down and grasping one of Hermione's hands to draw up between them.

Their joined hands seemed far away and surreal. Like an image from a dream. Honey and cocoa.

"Kalinychta," the witch whispered.

A heartbeat later, she was gone.

Looking around suddenly as if waking from a deep slumber, Hermione absorbed the dying candles and the soft orange glow they cast about the now-empty room. Off to the right she noticed a set of stairs she had missed earlier, thin white curtains fluttering across them gently.

A wave of her hand extinguished the last of the candles, plunging the room into darkness save for the gentle glow of moonlight from the far end of the room. With one last look toward the mysterious staircase, Hermione departed, closing the french doors behind her gently.

As she drifted back through the darkened villa toward her rooms, Hermione shook her head softly, mind too full to do much more than long for her bed.

A gentle smile played lightly across her lips.

"Goodnight, Master."


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: This is a bit of a transition chapter, but I anticipate the next few will begin to grow longer, similar to the last one._

* * *

Dia's wand vibrated noisily on the bedside table, drawing her out of a heavy sleep much earlier than her body desired. Stifling a groan, she stretched - feeling the stiffness of her muscles and a the dull ache of much older and deeper pains that resonated more acutely in protest of the early hour.

Casting a tempus, she saw it was a little after five. _Six hours should have been plenty…_

Sitting up slowly and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, Dia felt a pounding sensation in her temples and realized that six hours clearly weren't. Grimacing, she summoned a small blue bottle and knocked it back like a shot of ouzo. Abruptly, the vice-like grip of an impending headache dissolved and she felt herself blinking with a bit more clarity.

The events of the night previous slowly filtered into place and Dia found herself scrubbing a hand over her face indelicately as she recalled the impetus for her rather sudden departure. _That witch…_

Dia sniffed lightly in amusement.

Hermione, in all her transparent Gryffindor glory, somehow managed to remain unpredictable at the least convenient moments. She wasn't sure if the young witch's actions and reactions were truly that instantaneous or if she possessed a burgeoning streak of serpentry that was slow to emerge. Either way, she would have to remain more alert.

Sighing, Dia rose, wincing as several joints popped in protest. She padded over to the windows and shifted the curtains, taking in the greyish hue of the morning light and the choppy slate grey waters churning down below. Ominous black clouds hung low over the sea as they rolled in from the west.

It looked like an early morning swim would be out of the question.

 _Yoga, then._

Lifting her thin nightdress over her head, Dia banished it to the hamper in the bathroom and stepped down from the main bedchamber clad in only white cotton underwear. She strode over to the french doors that opened to the covered veranda and stepped outside.

She shivered slightly, her nipples hardening in response to the bracing chill of the morning air. Her nose detected the familiar briny salt of the sea and the impending freshness of rain as she unfurled her mat and cast a warming charm upon it. Her body ached and every fiber in her being wanted to crawl back into bed and burrow into the warm covers, but Dia simply spread her toes and took her stance at the front of her mat overlooking the dark water.

 _No excuses_.

She inhaled deeply, feeling her lungs take in the fresh air and her mind begin to open to her practice. Her eyes fluttered shut and she pressed both palms together in front of her sternum. She began to quiet her mind - tucking stray thoughts into place the way she would tidy errant items scattered about a clean room.

Dia took a few more deep breaths, feeling the muscles in her abdominals and back begin to expand in response.

As she lifted her arms to the side, the skies opened and it began to rain.

* * *

Minerva was pleased to note that breakfast was a subdued affair following her rather grandiose oration from the night before.

The Daily Prophet had been delivered and received in a calm manner, and a quick glance through the morning edition indicated that there hadn't been any new developments to incite further panic.

Students spoke quietly amongst themselves and Minerva's attentive gaze was quick to detect a few heated debates, but nothing that seemed to indicate trouble. The other professors floated in and out of the Great Hall as they attended to their morning routines, but beyond the customary exchange of pleasantries, Minerva had largely been left to her own thoughts.

As she mused over the events of the last several days, Minerva acknowledged that she was quite proud of her staff.

All of the professors had taken the unexpected news of the ISOS violations in stride, asking attentive questions and quickly working together to restructure the needs of the school between them as Minerva and Filius had communicated their responsibilities to the ICW. She had been quite pleased that the two newest professors on staff had been quick to step in and offer to take extra rounds and cover their colleagues classes as needed.

Hestia Jones had proved to be an immediate hit amongst students who seemed to receive her youthful style and unorthodox approaches to D.A.D.A. with apparent relish. Although she was, of course, an alumna of Hogwarts, Minerva had come to appreciate the younger witch during a few longer operations they had shared together on behalf of the Order.

Unlike the stiffness she customarily found herself relying upon when interacting with past students, Hestia had an easy-going manner that Minerva found refreshing. The witch had graduated the Auror Academy with honors before rerouting her career and stepping into a logistics position within the Ministry that she had maintained throughout the War. She was a talented witch both in the field and in the briefing room and Minerva had been quite pleased to have her rather broad skillset on faculty.

On the other hand, Talfryn Hawtrey had been an unexpected and last-minute find, but Minerva and the rest of the staff had been quick to welcome his dry-wit and dependable presence with enthusiasm. The middle-aged Welsh wizard had emerged from a rather impressive research project in Mali just in time to rescue Minerva from having to teach Transfiguration _and_ attend to her duties as Headmistress. His first year at Hogwarts had been a baptism by fire, but despite his lack of concentrated teaching experience, Talfryn had risen to the occasion admirably and had quickly developed a reputation for being as hard to please as Minerva herself.

Both Talfryn and Hestia had been thrilled to return a second year and despite the short nature of both their appointments, Minerva was already leaning toward offering the both of them longer contracts. Their work ethic and commitment to the students was inspired and she was impressed by how quickly her entire faculty had meshed together to create a more united front than she could ever recall.

Unity had been an elusive element amongst the professors of Hogwarts during the War and Minerva had been hellbent on creating a more open and inclusive atmosphere as soon as she had taken the Headmistress' oath.

While every community shared their difficult moments, it seemed, for the moment, that the current changes to staffing and several roundtable sessions with her colleagues had developed a more trusting connection between all of them. The tenured faculty were still working through a number of unspoken stumbling blocks that had slowly arisen over the last decade, but for the moment Minerva had been pleased to see everyone respond positively to the subtle shift in energy that her two new charges had brought with them.

Minerva's gaze slid to the right where the two professors in question were speaking quietly over breakfast.

Hestia was chuckling lightly at something the stately silver-haired wizard was saying, her cheeks flushed in mirth as she swatted his arm lightly. She blinked in surprise. The witch and wizard were angled toward each other subtly, not close enough to be misconstrued as unprofessional, but Minerva wondered when she had missed the development of the obvious chemistry bubbling before her. _There must be at least forty years between them_ , she mused quietly.

Another glance saw Talfryn's blue eyes light up in as he covered a laugh by stroking his trademark silver goatee. Doubtless his characteristically dry humor had met its match with Hestia. From experience, Minerva knew that Hestia was whimsical at best and groan-inducing at worst. The witch loved puns and had a mouth like a sailor, rivaling even Rolanda for her use of inventive expletives. A moment later, Minerva's eyes caught Poppy's sparkling ones at the end of the table, and she knew that her own suspicions were echoed.

 _Still..._

Minerva turned back to her breakfast and smiled thoughtfully, tamping down the wistful tendrils of emotion that suddenly sought to wind their way through her chest.

 _… What an unexpectedly beautiful match._

She sighed and let her eyes rake across the House tables.

Casting a tempus, Minerva checked the time before quickling polishing off her toast and bidding a good morning to her colleagues. The students parted before her as she made her way out of the Great Hall, mind already moving a thousand meters a minute as she mentally prepared for her meeting with Filius.

They had both received a more detailed itinerary for their impending visit to Atlantis. Portkeys had arrived, indicating their immediate departure to the Central Agora of Aetherion at exactly nine the following morning. The session was projected to last all day with a two hour break in the middle during which constituents were strongly encouraged to remain upon the island. Minerva had noted with amusement that in very fine print it was written that their Portkeys would ensure they would be summoned back in a timely manner should they wish to break elsewhere.

As elegant and visually-impressive as Aetherion was, it wasn't the most _comfortable_ city. She would have to consider where to recess.

Minerva's thoughts were rudely interrupted as she flattened herself against the wall, nearly blindsided by a black blur whipping around the corner. The second-year skidded to a stop, a rushed apology dying on her lips as she looked up and paled at seeing just _who_ she had nearly knocked over.

"Five points from Ravenclaw, Miss Rowntree. Should you wish to enjoy life as a cheetah, I suggest you attend to your studies with the same single-minded attention you appear to give to running. Perhaps your Animagus form will oblige," she snapped disapprovingly.

The girl stumbled a bit as she backed away with wide-eyes.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress!"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

" _Walk_ , Rowntree."

Still shaking her head, Minerva resumed her journey, albeit at a slightly quicker pace. _They get younger and younger…_

A few minutes later, she arrived to the gargoyle standing guard outside her office and walked toward it at full tilt, lips suppressing a smile as the stone creature had to rush to accommodate her.

She wasn't afforded many amusements as Headmistress, but she would take what she could get.

* * *

Hermione's conscious mind floated up to the surface slowly, rising from the peaceful depths of slumber reluctantly. Dimly, she registered the soothing sound of rain pattering quietly on the windowpanes.

A light hand threaded its way through her curls gently, passing over her forehead and soothing the pucker between her brows as she fought to remain tethered to the comforting embrace of sleep. A soft muttering of words seemed to encourage her waking.

"Mmmm," was the only response she could manage. Her ears pricked as a light, musical chuckle resounded close by and she turned her face slightly, wanting to breathe in the sweet scent of tea tree and eucalyptus that wafted gently toward her nose.

Her eyes parted of their own accord and Hermione frowned, at once aware of the unpleasant cold morning light. A moment later, a familiar presence seemed to block it and she twisted toward it unconsciously, her arms and torso wrapping around something warm and solid.

"Come, darling. The day awaits."

Hermione blinked and her eyes telescoped in on ivory linen fibers resting a few inches from her nose. Shifting to take in more of the image, her eyes traveled upward, registering several soft curves, a thin band of elegant Greek key that separated the linen from a luminous expanse of dark skin and sweeping collarbones, and finally the beautiful features of her master who was gazing down at her with a tender expression.

With a moan, Hermione drew herself closer, pulling herself into the witch's lap even further before comprehension shot through her and she was sitting up quickly, scuttling backwards, and pulling her blanket over her in embarrassment. _Good Godric!_

"Kaliméra," Master Kallas said softly, her features breaking into a smile.

She was sitting on the edge of Hermione's bed, already impeccably dressed in artfully folded robes and propped on one arm as she gazed at Hermione with a tilt of her head. The witch's curls were pulled back into a rather elegant twist, and at once, Hermione became acutely aware of her own disheveled appearance - her own hair likely rivaling the Devil's Snare, and her simple cotton tank top and boxer shorts rumpled from sleep.

"'Morning," she managed, wincing slightly as she attempted to absorb the strange wake-up call. _Where is Eleni anyway?_

Typically, the House Elf rapped on her door if there was a special reason for her to rise early. As far as Hermione could remember, Master Kallas had never been in her rooms aside from the first day when she had given Hermione a tour of the villa.

"Eleni and Stelios will be away for the remainder of the week," Master Kallas informed her, reading Hermione's thoughts as usual. "I apologize for having to wake you, but we have a great deal of work to accomplish this morning."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but quickly closed it, wincing slightly as she nodded instead. _Merlin, you probably have morning breath!_

Master Kallas smiled sympathetically, likely mistaking her embarrassment for discomfort. She shifted, reaching into a pocket to withdraw a small blue bottle.

"Take this," she said, handing it over. _Must be an awakening potion of some sort…_

Dutifully, Hermione removed the stopper, sniffed its contents and knocked it back quickly, noting the pleasant fizzing sensation as it slid down her throat and the smooth taste of peppermint and sweet cream. A moment later, her senses seemed to sharpen and the aches and pains she hadn't even registered seemed to fade away. She felt remarkably rejuvenated.

"What was that?" she asked, unable to contain her curiosity. Master Kallas smiled brightly, picking up her robes and rising gracefully from Hermione's bedside.

"Something of my own creation. A blend of several brews meant to simultaneously awaken and soothe a tired body," she replied, moving back slightly. Momentarily panicked, Hermione's gaze quickly raked the darkened room, relaxing a moment later when she realized she _had_ tidied up the space before going to sleep. _Thank gods…_

"The hour draws close to half past six. I have a few matters to attend to before preparing the lab - I suggest you take the next twenty minutes to finish your morning ablutions and eat breakfast," Master Kallas said, light eyes narrowing as her gaze moved past Hermione to the storm currently casting itself upon the windows with ardor. A distant roll of thunder resounded in the distance.

"Can I watch you prepare everything?" Hermione asked eagerly, recalling the impressive demonstration of magic from yesterday. Seafoam eyes flickered back to hers.

"Regretfully, most of the lab remains in place from yesterday's session… however should it please you, I will await your presence and you may watch the assembly of the orders we finished yesterday," Master Kallas said, already moving to the door. Hermione nodded, slightly disappointed that the grand mise en place wouldn't be repeated.

At the threshold, Master Kallas turned and sent Hermione a playful smile. "And Apprentice... as we will be making a trip to Athens immediately after our session, I suggest taking a few extra moments on your hair."

Hermione flushed and as soon as her master had shut the door, she bolted out of bed and ran to check her reflection in the bathroom. Groaning, she saw her curls _literally_ standing on end - floating around her face in an amorphous and rather unattractive halo. _Rowena's Left Tit! You look like the sour end of a blast-ended skrewt!_

Fuming silently, Hermione quickly turned on the shower and grabbed both bottles of her master's homemade shampoo and conditioner. After one more glare at her reflection, she swiped a smaller bottle of argan oil and set it out for later.

If her hair was measuring the baseline, hopefully events would improve.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: I apologize for the gap in posts! This chapter has been giving me *the worst* writer's block! Agh! It's undergone several revisions and while I'm still not entirely happy with it, it serves for now. I will find more opportunities to unveil the things I need in the coming chapters._

 _Thanks for your patience and enjoy!_  
 _-R_

* * *

"You are _certain_ that this increases the probability?"

"I've checked over the equations several times, changing both minute and critical variables. In each instance, potential involvement increases the probability from anywhere from seventeen to thirty-three percent."

Minerva sighed, rubbing her sternum absently as she mused over the new information.

 _They were suspect from the beginning, but there simply aren't enough of them to contribute to events of this magnitude. There has to be more than one agenda on the table…_

The large oak desk before her was strewn with parchments, all of them bearing the same light airy rows of Arithmantic equations. Filius sat opposite her, his grey eyes solemn as they deliberated over the results of his calculations which, unfortunately, remained quite vague.

"Very well. Thank you, Filius."

The small wizard nodded and quickly flicked his wand to assemble all of the parchments and fold them into a neat, orderly pile. Minerva cast a quick tempus and realized with a start that their meeting had run over by a half hour. She rose smoothly... intending to accompany her Deputy to the Floo, but found herself caught a moment later... unable to breathe as a powerful spasm passed through her body like a bolt of lightning.

Minerva put a hand on the desk to steady herself as she caught her breath. Eyes flicking upward, she was relieved to see that her colleague had not noticed.

Filius gracefully lowered his chair to the floor and took the pile of parchments under one arm. Her friend sighed to himself, shaking his head in concern as he began moving toward the fireplace.

Minerva followed gingerly, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down the back of her neck as she distantly registered her friend's casual comment about looking forward to the weather on Atlantis. Despite the quiet pulses of pain still wracking her body, Minerva managed to smile in sympathy.

Despite his customary pleasant attitude, Minerva knew that the recent events had troubled her colleague greatly. Filius' grandson lived in northern California, and though he had quickly written to assure the family that all was well, she knew it was difficult for her friend to bear the thought of his family so close to the wake of destruction. Ruefully, Minerva supposed she should be grateful for having few concerns such as those.

As they passed through the center of the office, a familiar figure in purple robes appeared above them and Minerva steadfastly chose to avoid eye contact as she moved stiffly beneath it.

"Thank you for coming, Filius. My apologies for keeping you past time. Perhaps events of tomorrow will herald information we can use," Minerva said softly. Her friend turned to look up at her, his wizened features set into a grave expression.

"Then let us suspend our concerns 'til the 'morrow then." Grey eyes appraised her quietly as Filius tilted his head. "Will we see you at dinner?"

"Of course. I shall notify you of any change," Minerva replied easily, offering the Floo powder. Filius gave a low nod. Taking a small handful of the powder, he cast it into the flames before swiftly stepping forward and vanishing with a swirl of bright emerald green.

As soon as her friend had disappeared, Minerva allowed herself to deflate slightly. Drawing a shaky breath, she finally allowed herself a moment to acknowledge the searing pain that was now rippling through her body. Eyes watering, she pressed a hand to the cool stone of the mantle and paused, gasping slightly as she attempted to draw deep breaths and quell the wave of nausea that threatened to overturn her stomach.

 _Ohhh no… Not yet, old girl… There are still many fragments you must yet piece together._

Minerva took another long moment to lean against the fireplace before drawing her wand and siphoning the excess powder and soot that had fallen upon the floor. A moment later, she straightened, drawing a deep breath and adjusting her spectacles as she made her way back to the piles of parchment still awaiting her perusal.

The figure above shifted and Minerva lifted a tired hand to forestall any further speculation as she settled in behind her desk.

"Not now, Albus," she murmured wearily.

Quietly, Minerva mused at the irony of her situation. Though she had promised herself that her tenure as Headmistress would be entirely devoted to the students, it seemed that the Head of Hogwarts was forever destined to be woven into a web of secrecy far larger than anyone could ever predict.

Picking up a quill, Minerva closed her eyes for a moment - suddenly feeling more weighted and alone than she had in over a year. Her memories from the most recent War hung illuminated - still fresh with guilt, pain, and loss.

Inhaling deeply, Minerva pulled a clean piece of parchment forward and before she could decide against it, set her quill to paper and began writing. There was no use in continuing to serve the dead. Her efforts were best served by protecting the living.

Everything else would unfold itself in due course.

Of that she was certain.

* * *

Hermione felt dead on her feet by the time she and Master Kallas had finished their second brewing session around two thirty. The rejuvenation potion she had taken in the morning seemed like a distant memory as they hurriedly assembled crates and packages, padding the bigger ones with sheep's wool to prevent breakage, and ensuring that the final touches on all the labels held Master Kallas' private seal.

They had left the lab in a half-finished state of disarray before Master Kallas checked the time and indicated they needed to be on their way to Athens. Hermione managed to shower quickly and don a simple set of dark blue robes before waiting in the main foyer. Briefly, she wondered if she should wear a cloak on account of the rainy weather, but it seemed too much trouble. She wanted nothing more than to sink into the comfort of one of the chairs in the living room, but she fought to remain alert and engaged.

 _Just a few more hours and then maybe you can sleep..._

Master Kallas glided into the room looking immaculate as ever, with not even a hair out of place to indicate that she had been brewing for seven hours straight. One arm held a leather-bound appointment book and the other bore a French-style market basket. The witch was speaking softly to herself as she checked her pockets and Hermione smiled at being able to witness such a small unguarded moment. It wasn't often that she saw her master flustered.

"- need to remember that I have that here. Eh! Where is it? Ah, right," Master Kallas looked up and saw Hermione, her lovely features morphing into a guilty expression. "I apologize for keeping you waiting, darling. I believe we're ready. Do you have everything?"

Hermione nodded her affirmative as the other witch tucked the book into the basket. The main door opened behind them and Master Kallas' nose wrinkled slightly at turning and seeing the unpleasant weather. She swept behind Hermione and wrapped an arm around her shoulders before leading her outside, her wand quickly emerging to cast a Shield Charm against the elements.

"Are you alright?" Master Kallas asked softly as Hermione unconsciously nestled closer. She blushed and nodded. She was a bit cold, but mostly her nose had detected the witch's delectable scent as well as a hint of tastefully light perfume. _Definitely all right._

They walked down the curved path of white flagstones, passing between formal white columns and beneath a long archway of pink bougainvillea that dripped from knotted branches overhead. The tall wrought iron gate at the end of the path signaled the end of the warding. Hermione felt a telltale ripple of magic and a distinct sense of moving through thick air as they stepped through to the other side.

"Ready?"

Internally, Hermione steeled herself for what was about to be one of her least favorite sensations. She nodded.

Master Kallas moved to face Hermione, drawing them together in an open sort of embrace as her gentle hands drifted down to hold her waist. Hermione automatically wrapped her arms beneath her master's shoulder blades, feeling a spark of anticipation as the witch's light scent enveloped her again. Seafoam eyes looked up at her with a hint of mischief, drawing her body closer…

And abruptly they were standing in a small courtyard, the distant sounds of the city echoing in the background as a light rain drizzled from above. Hermione looked to Master Kallas in surprise. Side-Along Apparation was usually incredibly unpleasant for her, leaving her nauseous for at least an hour afterward.

"It was better?" Master Kallas asked, still holding her close, light eyes staring into hers intently. Hermione inhaled and nodded, smiling as she realized she felt perfectly fine. One gentle hand rubbed her back reassuringly as her master gave her a dazzling smile in return.

"Good! I made a few adjustments to my technique. I don't wish you to be uncomfortable every time we travel," she said airily, before stepping back and readjusting her basket. Master Kallas held out a hand, her eyes warm.

"Come."

They fell into step, arms linked at the elbow - striding toward a stone archway and into the bustling streets of The Pharmakeion.

Athens' Wizarding district was hidden north of the central Acropolis and Hermione had immediately fallen in love with overwhelming aura of Greekness. The distinct and classic architecture made for an assortment of elegant colors and textures; delicious smells wafted from small cafés and bakeries boasting variations on traditional Greek foods, and the usual assortment of Wizarding stores blinked, purred, steamed, and shifted per magical expectation.

The Pharmakeion was less constricted than Diagon Alley - boasting several outdoor plazas and sitting areas where children could play and old men frequently gathered to challenge one another in games of Wizard's chess. While almost everyone spoke English, Hermione had been reluctant to come without her master - preferring the comfort of Master Kallas' shadow and the effortless manner in which the witch seemed to know and interact with almost everyone.

Hermione snuck a glance at her master as they walked - taking note of her mentor's easy energy and the way she held Hermione close. There hadn't been time for her to ask more questions about their long conversation from the night before, but somehow she knew that their relationship had changed slightly. They felt… _closer._

Quietly she mused over how incredibly thoughtful it had been for Master Kallas to research what Hermione had always felt was an embarrassing overreaction to an efficient means of travel. The first time they had traveled to Athens via Side-Along, Hermione had immediately fallen to her knees and retched, much to her master's dismay. Afterward, wherever possible, Master Kallas had obliged her by taking the Floo, though she soon discovered her master had her own reaction to that means of travel that was just as unpleasant.

Master Kallas lifted an eyebrow as she caught Hermione's subtle observation, her clear gaze sliding up in silent question.

"Efxaristo," Hermione whispered quietly, feeling a rush of appreciation for the woman's thoughtfulness.

Master Kallas simply hummed quietly and gave a gentle shake of her head to indicate that it had been nothing. With their close proximity Hermione actually shivered as she felt the feathery tendrils of emotion through their bond that her master had clearly attempted to keep to herself.

Hermione fought not to smile, knowing it was useless. Master Kallas lifted her chin and turned them down a smaller side street that lead to the tailor, but Hermione swore she had seen those sweeping cheekbones flush.

From the subtle tingle, Hermione had discerned that her master _liked_ when she spoke Greek.

Internally, she made a note to ask for more lessons from Eleni and Stelios.

 _… And to buy books. There are some things you cannot ask the Elves to translate._

* * *

"Minerva."

At the sound of the familiar voice, a wave of irritation washed through her and Minerva stilled, quietly placing her quill back in its holder and turning to lift her gaze toward the pair of bright blue eyes to her right. There was no good time to have this conversation.

"Yes, Albus?" She asked with more patience than she felt. The blue eyes weren't twinkling as he looked down at her solemnly.

"Have you given thought to reinstituting the Order?" he asked seriously, looking over the familiar half-moon spectacles.

"I have," Minerva replied evenly. The blue eyes flashed in response to her terse answer.

"Minerva, it is _imperative_ that you send word-" Abruptly irritated, Minerva cut him off.

"Albus, while it is concerning that Filius' figures indicate potential involvement from former Death Eaters, I will not interrupt the lives of others simply because we have an Arithmantic hunch!" she spat. Albus shifted, leaning forward in his frame to pin her with a hard look.

"Minerva, if Filius' predictions are to be believed, than this fight will not contain itself to the affected countries," he replied.

"No, Albus. Though your argument is sound, it is still one of many potential outcomes. I will not disturb the general peace before there is more evidence to suggest that there is significant cause for us to mount a defense against a burgeoning threat," she said tiredly, one hand coming up to remove her spectacles.

"Tabby-"

"Enough! I have made my decision," Minerva said sharply, lifting a hand and coming to her feet. An arrow of pain shot through her entire skeleton and she quickly doubled over, her irritation compounded by the reminder of her own frailty. Before the portraits could react however, a gesture of her fingertips quickly bound them into silence as Minerva recovered.

Her steely burst of emotion softened slightly as Albus' portrait sent her a hard glare at being silenced and she moved out from the desk to look up at him more directly.

"I do not wish to be you, Albus," she said softly. "I am not a chessmaster and the world at large is not a game. I will not willingly pull others into the labyrinth until it is proven beyond a doubt that there is no other choice. I have given Hogwarts my life, Albus. Do you understand that? My _life!_ I am bound-"

Minerva cut herself off and found that she was pacing, one hand on her hip, the other gesticulating wildly. There was no need to get emotional. Turning again, she stood before Albus' portrait resolutely.

"There have been too many deaths, Albus. I cannot, in good conscience, throw this community back into chaos before it has had the opportunity to heal. It has been little over a year. We are all still grieving..." Minerva trailed off and took a deep breath to steady herself, folding her hands deliberately before continuing.

"Moreover, it is not the responsibility of the head of this school to ensure the safety and protection to anyone beyond its students and faculty. For the first time in a long time, we have a competent Minister whose duty it is to serve the people, and _I_ will not shy from the work that remains _here_ to ensure that Hogwarts is worthy of its reputation. Anything else that arises beyond that… I will handle accordingly."

Predictably, Albus simply shook his head and looked down at her sadly. His disappointment was palpable as he slowly rose from his painted chair and walked out of his frame. However, unlike other times and other moments they had shared in life, Minerva refused to allow herself the wave of guilt that usually followed.

A glance at the fireplace stoked the embers into burning afresh and Minerva took a deep breath before returning to her desk.

 _Three wars… three wars… No. Until this situation makes itself clear, this burden is one that will be carried quietly._

Minerva rubbed her aching sternum absently as she considered how very tired she felt.

Outside, a light snowfall had begun.

The small flakes drifted lazily past the windows, glinting in the midday sun that was attempting to peek through the clouds. Far below, a group of students called to each other as they ran across the grounds - their house colors wrapped warmly about their necks as their black robes whipped back and forth in the chill.

Minerva watched them for a moment, wondering again at the innocent ease of childhood as the students laughed amongst themselves. The fire crackled quietly and it suddenly seemed so long ago that she had been in the position they were now... before war, death, and loss had made themselves known to her.

Their scarves lifted in the breeze and two of them twirled, arms out and faces lifted toward the sky. Young. Careless. Free.

Minerva's eyes flicked up toward Albus' empty frame and a familiar hollow sensation bloomed in her chest as she once again cast her eyes over the empty office and all it represented.

"At times I envy you, old friend," she whispered.

* * *

To Master Kallas' immediate displeasure, Madam Anastos was still busy with another client when they had arrived for their appointment.

Hermione had been happy to sit for awhile, mind floating somewhere in limbo as her master had attended to the details of their order with an assistant. The shop was bright and elegant with large windows looking out into a small square plaza with a grove of citrus trees in the middle.

Unlike the majority of other Wizarding stores that favored candlelight, Anastos' boasted high tin ceilings and clean track lighting that was clearly meant to draw attention to the hundreds of bolts of fabric on the back wall, all of which seemed to be of the finest quality. Hermione found herself admiring the many colors and patterns absently, unaware that her eye kept straying toward the bolts of emerald, blue, and ivory with more regularity.

Hermione was so engrossed in her observation that she didn't even register another witch coming to sit next to her until the woman's clean ivory robes were practically in her lap. Turning with a start, she found herself eye to eye with Master Kallas' aunt who was doing a rather poor job of holding in a mischievous smile.

"Oh! Madam..! Erm…." Hermione tripped over her words realizing she had forgotten the witch's given name. The woman in question smiled broadly and quickly engulfed her in a warm hug. Over one shoulder she caught Master Kallas' vexed expression from where she was standing at the counter.

"Please darling, call me Yiayia. I only accept Madam Kefalas on business and the last person to address me as Eleftheria was my husband and he's been dead for _ages!_ " the witch gushed, blue nails flashing as her hands waved about like butterflies. Hermione smiled and nodded, tired mind still catching up with the ball of energy sitting next to her.

"So how _are_ you, darling? Do you enjoy your studies? How do you find the island? Do you miss home?" Yiayia fixed Hermione with a pleasant but intense gaze. As she tried to pull her thoughts together, Hermione noted that the elder witch had light hazel eyes - a different shade from her master's, but with the same almond shape and remarkable clarity. She wondered if it was a family trait.

"I'm doing well…" she began, trying to remember all of the questions. "Master Kallas has created a challenging curriculum for both the disciplines, but I've enjoyed her methods…"

She trailed off as Master Kallas strode over, extending a protective hand to rest on Hermione's shoulder.

"Theia… Promise me you'll behave yourself? Hermione, I apologize, but I must work with Maria first. It seems I must hasten to the post office."

"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked in concern. Light eyes met hers and softened.

"Yes, darling. Simply a letter I must respond to as soon as I finish. I will of course be back quickly to collect you," Master Kallas explained. Yiayia had remained quiet, but she quickly wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her close.

"Don't worry, anipsiá mou… Hermione and I will just get to know each other better while you're off attending to more _important matters_ ," Yiayia said conspiratorially. Master Kallas narrowed her eyes, moving her hand to smooth Hermione's curls back slightly. There was something slightly possessive about the action and Hermione fought not to blush.

" _My apprentice_ is important, theia. I entreat you to attend to her accordingly. And both of you, please ensure Madam Anastos follows my instructions regarding Hermione's robes to the letter," Master Kallas said, giving her aunt a measured look.

Yiayia raised her eyebrows in reply and placed a hand over her heart. Curious, Hermione noted that each of the long fingers boasted a series of thin gold rings. The elder witch shot her niece a questioning look that seemed to be returned.

"You have my word, darling," Yiayia said after a moment, smiling broadly. Master Kallas gave her a curt nod and Hermione a small smile before stepping away and following Madam Anastos into an adjoining room. Hermione watched her go, feeling as though something had passed between the two witches that she hadn't been privy to.

"So… how is it going, _really?_ " Yiayia asked, draping an elbow over the back of her chair and pinning Hermione with a hard look.

"Do you mean my studies?" Hermione asked in confusion. Hadn't she just answered?

"Yes! Dia is always so _mysterious_ in the first classifications. Likely she just wants to protect you all from me, but I like to think I throw in a little… oh, I don't know _je ne sais quois_ to your experience, don't you think?"

Yiayia gave a sly smile and Hermione found herself chuckling in response before answering the question in more depth.

They chatted on for a while discussing everything from Hermione's studies to the relationship that the Kefalas-Kallas family held with their House Elves to specific theories in both her Transfiguration and Potions curriculum.

Her master's aunt was outrageous at the very least, making her opinions well-known immediately, but her effusive personality seemed to be genuine as well as incredibly kind. As they spoke, it also became apparent that Yiayia possessed a razor sharp intellect and Hermione wondered if the witch were a Master herself, though it seemed Yiayia was well-versed in everything and an exact discipline remained unclear.

Despite her fatigue, Hermione found herself relaxing as she began to fall into the rhythm of the elder witch's dramatic way of speaking. Yiayia's words were punctuated by changes in pitch and volume and the oddly affected gesture. However, despite her gregariousness, it was clear the woman commanded respect.

At one point, Yiayia had been quick to move them to a different sofa, managing to intimate good-naturedly that the dirty windows were distracting her from their conversation. (While Hermione didn't much care either way, Yiayia indicated that it was a pet peeve of hers whenever her eye was always drawn toward uneven lighting - "An eye for design, darling! Both a blessing and curse!")

"So, is this what you imagined then… for your first classifications?" Yiayia asked at one point after Hermione had talked about her newfound love for the physical aspects of her training. The witch had agreed that Naxos was indeed a haven for rediscovering one's connection to the outdoors.

"This is certainly different than anything I could have anticipated. But I wouldn't trade it," Hermione replied seriously. Yiayia smiled and nodded, pointing a long finger at Hermione.

"Mmmhmm. Different is _interesting_ , darling. And interesting is _compelling_. What's the definition of 'compelling'?"

Automatically, Hermione found herself parroting a reply.

"To compel is to force someone by a sense of duty."

"What a wonderful, clear mind you have," Yiayia replied seriously, her green eyes narrowing as she peered at Hermione with a rather sober expression. A moment later, she smiled conspiratorially.

"However, you are right. And never forget what power is held in being able to compel others to do your bidding," Yiayia said archly, one eyebrow raising slightly as her bright eyes subtly flicked down and to the left. She took a moment to fiddle with her rings as Hermione's brow furrowed.

She looked over the witch's left shoulder, attention suddenly drawn to the shops' assistant who had largely been busy folding bolts of fabric since they had started speaking. The young woman was now cleaning the windows intently, humming softly to herself and clearly fixated on her task.

 _Just from overhearing our conversation._

Hermione looked back at the other witch in surprise, her mind recalling her conversation with her master from the night before.

 _"Though I loathe to subject you to the presence of my family, Yiayia is the consummate professional of proper etiquette. You must learn the subtle intricacies from her..."_

"That was a lesson," Hermione half-asked in wonder, suddenly more interested in whatever 'etiquette' she was meant to absorb from this witch. Yiayia's lips curled into a smile and she simply gazed at Hermione for a long moment before leaning forward slightly.

"As much as Dia dislikes my unorthodoxy, I do appreciate that she knows to respect and value my differing perspective," she began in a low voice free of affectation.

The witch opened her palm and a delicate teacup materialized suddenly, self-stirring what appeared to be a cup of frothing Greek coffee. Yiayia sat back and crossed her legs demurely, and Hermione found herself straightening in response while experiencing a bizarre feeling of dejá vú at seeing the elder witch adopt the familiar mannerisms of Master Kallas.

"Our world Hermione, particularly the upper echelons of it, is full of people who cannot think for themselves. It's a high mark of honor that my niece believes in you enough to send you to me… she's trained many apprentices and she holds high standards. While her charges always meet our family at some point in their training, I've never been introduced to an apprentice so early in their classifications nor to one who has picked up on the subtleties of my methods so quickly."

"Was last night a test?" Hermione asked, thinking to the rather boisterous visit that she and Master Kallas' niece had made.

"If Diamantina had wanted me gone, she wouldn't have allowed us past the doorstep," Yiayia remarked, tossing her dark curls with a sniff. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Is that really true? Or did you simply decide to team up and search for information?" she asked seriously. Yiayia chuckled.

"Good question. I like your forthright nature. Truthfully, Ana and I always try to test her for our own amusement each time she takes on a new apprentice... I _never_ turn down a creative challenge. But this is the first time she has ever chosen to capitulate. I tease her for her rules, but she adheres to them for a reason and despite our needling, we do respect them," Yiayia replied, sipping her coffee and making a satisfied sound. _What does that even mean?_

"Master Kallas said I am to learn from you," Hermione said softly, more to herself than to Yiayia. Again she was surprised when the other witch was quick to narrow her eyes in response.

"She did, did she?"

A moment later, the witch set down her teacup and waved a hand, a sly smile spreading itself over her expressive features. Hermione felt the telltale ripple of a non-verbal spell and looked to Yiayia questioningly.

"If you are to learn, I see no reason why we shouldn't start now. Nor why I should have to share my secrets with the universe," she said haughtily while dark eyebrows waggled suggestively.

Unable to stop herself, Hermione laughed, tension unwinding from her shoulders as Yiayia reclined back and somehow managed to make draping herself over the uncomfortable sofa look elegant.

"Dia sent you _to me_ , Hermione darling… because I have a rather intuitive means of assessing others. It's a combination of skills that I have honed over the years that allow me to observe, assess, and eventually find means of compelling people to… see things from my perspective, as it were. A rather valuable art in the subtle worlds of Mastery societies, yes?"

Hermione nodded, transfixed.

This had been the portion of her training that she had looked forward to the least, but from what Yiayia was explaining… well, it seemed a bit more involved in a way that she found palatable. Etiquette and manners seemed so archaic and dry, but Yiayia seemed to be talking about the dynamics of _power_.

"Very well, darling…" Yiayia shifted and sat forward on the sofa, tossing her hands lightly and allowing her generous silk sleeves to settle elegantly. Clasping both hands in her lap, she fixed Hermione with an intense gaze before dropping her voice slightly.

"Let us begin."

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _efxaristo - Thank you_  
 _anipsiá mou - my niece_


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Some things are drawing together! Agh! This "day" is proving to be one of the hardest for me to write. So many small details need to get packed into this a whirlwind week before we can continue... This one is an emotional rollercoaster, but it's important. Bear with me!_

 _[For convenience, let's say that italicized text with quotation marks around it indicates the conversation is occurring in Greek. If it is not clear, let me know and I will find a different way.]_

 _Thanks!_

* * *

Dia emerged from the adjoining room to find Hermione and Yiayia ensconced in a corner, their heads bowed together in deep conversation and voices protected by an enchantment. As she swept to the counter to confirm a few changes to her order with Maria's assistant, another glance toward the two confirmed the ripple she had felt earlier through her bond.

Hermione had recently been crying.

A moment later, Yiayia caught her gaze and flourished a wrist to cancel the privacy spell. She patted Hermione's hand warmly before rising with a smile while the younger witch appeared to take a moment to wipe her eyes. As Yiayia strode over, Dia cast another subtle glance over her apprentice and was pleased to see that the younger witch appeared somewhat shaken but at ease as she made to follow.

 _"Everything is as expected?"_ Dia softly asked, phrasing the question in Greek before Hermione grew too close.

 _"As expected,"_ Yiayia replied, coming to stand at her side. They both looked to Hermione who smiled tiredly in response. Dia held out an arm and her apprentice hesitated a moment before stepping forward and slipping an arm around her waist, letting her curls rest against Dia's own. The delicious scents of honey, cinnamon, and vanilla reached her nose and Dia fought not to pull the young witch any closer.

 _"Do you anticipate making similar changes to your Apprentice's order?"_

Dia turned, redirecting her attention to Maria's assistant who immediately appeared apologetic for interrupting the moment. Dia smiled at the young witch in reassurance before replying in Greek.

 _"Yes. Maria has the details. Please also ensure she is fitted for two evening gowns…"_ Dia trailed off, looking over the witch wrapped in her arm. _"I defer to Maria's expertise, however I imagine emerald green and perhaps a warm bronze would be excellent colors. Nothing tasteless."_

The assistant laughed lightly at the last comment, shaking her head in assurance.

 _"Excellent suggestions, Master Kallas. I shall inform Madam Anastos. Please tell your Apprentice that it will just be a few more minutes for us to prepare. I apologize that she has had to wait."_

The assistant ducked her head slightly and glanced at Hermione shyly, who had watched their exchange with the concentrated interest of one in the midst of learning a new language.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione turned to look at Dia expectantly.

"She apologizes for the wait and says that Madam Anastos will be out shortly to collect you," Dia translated, smiling up into caramel eyes.

"It remains unvoiced that the young woman thinks you're _bee-uuutiful!_ " Yiayia trilled happily. Both young witches blushed scarlet as Dia snapped her fingers toward her aunt in annoyance as the assistant quickly hurried off, clearly more adept at English than she had let on.

Dia turned, shifting to draw Hermione into an open embrace as Yiayia sauntered away knowingly. Her own eyes questioning, Hermione smiled reassuringly as Dia reached up and trailed a hand from the back of her neck and down her arm soothingly. Her long fingers lingered on the soft skin of Hermione's wrist.

"I'm alright…" Hermione whispered, dropping her gaze to the floor in embarrassment. "Yiayia's wonderful… I just… didn't expect her to be so… _insightful._ "

"I won't pry, darling. I know my aunt's talents can come as a surprise. But trust that the vulnerability you will experience in the course of training with her will become an asset later… for once you have experienced and identified what lies within, you can better protect it from those who seek to use it against you," Dia said seriously.

Luminous brown eyes met hers with wide realization before Hermione nodded, her expression becoming steely.

"I understand, Master."

"I know you do, kopelia." Dia allowed her knuckles to brush the side of Hermione's cheek before stepping back.

"Now. I must be off. Ana will be here shortly, however I expect Maria will see to you first. She knows we have an appointment to commission your sigils after this," Dia said, already summoning her outer robes from the hook near the door.

Yiayia gestured toward Hermione and the two witches resettled on the sofa near the windows as her aunt babbled on about clear lighting. Dia magicked her robes together deftly and opened her appointment book to confirm the time. _Two hours should be plenty before we meet Madam Argyris._

Giving the two witches a smile in farewell, Dia quickly strode to the door - already murmuring a string of enchantments to ward off the rain that continued to fall in heavy sheets. As the door began to close, Dia was pleased to hear Hermione ask a question that seemed to continue where the two witches had left off. _Good._

The fresh scent of water bit her nose as Dia stepped out from beneath the sheltering overhang of the alterations shop. Quickly moving over the wet cobblestones, her heeled boots remained perfectly dry as she crossed through puddles and began making her way toward the main avenue.

Asking for her aunt's help had been a rather impulsive choice upon receiving the unexpected owl, but Dia was pleased to see that her intuition still served. While Yiayia was gregarious by nature, she had no patience for Dia's methodical way of teaching nor sharing her knowledge unless she was assured that the person in question was worth the investment. From the way she had taken Hermione under her wing in the span of an hour, it appeared Yiayia had indeed found the young witch to be more than worthy.

Turning to the right, Dia ducked under an archway of enchanted bougainvillea avoiding the delicate tendrils that curled toward her as she moved swiftly down the avenue, smiling softly to herself as she thought of her apprentice. Hermione continued to impress her in the most unexpected of ways.

 _Speaking of unexpected…_

Abruptly, Dia's thoughts shifted as she considered the short message that had been waiting for her at Anastos'.

The note had been brief and cordial, though Dia had immediately read between the lines and realized that the subsequent query had far more to do with the five ISOS violations than the simple act of correspondence between long lost friends it appeared to suggest. That alone made her curious.

 _Still... it would be prudent to learn more about events occurring within the ICW before the Quorum convenes._

Coming to a decision, Dia made a detour - rounding a corner and breezing past the bookstore, despite wanting to pause and peruse the newest selection of publications and tomes. _Perhaps l_ _ater… as a treat to Hermione_ , she thought with another smile. They had both managed a month and half without renewing their personal libraries.

As she walked, Dia tried to recall the address of a small café in Anacapri. Her mind quickly flashed through images of the distant past... pale blue shadows along the narrow cobbled path toward an elegant wrought iron gate, the fresh smell of wildflowers and pine, azure seas as clear as those on Naxos, and two sunburnt faces with crinkling eyes and warm smiles. With a pang of guilt, Dia realized that it had been years since she had last stopped in to visit Giannino and Elena.

Perhaps tomorrow would prove the perfect excuse.

 _Anyway, it would be better to meet in a neutral location before either one of us attempts to cancel,_ she thought wryly.

Despite herself, Dia felt a flutter of anticipation in her stomach at the thought of a meeting. _Has it been t_ _wenty years? That's literally Hermione's age..._

Shaking her head, Dia quickly tamped down the unwanted anxiety, and a moment later she slowed and stepped into the warm halo of light from the bakery. A cloud of delicious scents enveloped her like a caress and as she ran her tongue over her lips, Dia detected butter, mascarpone, caramelized sugar, and almonds.

A _professional_ response would be sent shortly…. but not without a choice selection of kataifi and baklava to accompany it.

A little sugar never hurt.

* * *

As soon as Master Kallas had left, Hermione had returned to the sofa, tired but interested in continuing the conversation she had been having with Yiayia.

The two witches settled, ivory robes overlapping as Yiayia re-summarized some of their previous conversation and launched on anew.

Despite the rough start to their lesson, Hermione found herself growing more and more impressed at how insightful the elder witch was... first, at how easily she had read into Hermione's life and experiences, (that had been uncomfortable and revealing to say the least)... and then later at how effortlessly she had managed to build a solid foundation of trust between them.

Yiayia was as honest and direct in her teaching as Master Kallas - delivering information in her own outrageous way, yes... but Hermione's dry expectations at having to learn etiquette and social rules had quickly been cast out the window as Yiayia quickly made it clear that she dealt with the many nuances of _people,_ the different intelligences and aptitudes they possessed, and the varied perspectives regarding questions of power and purpose.

After delving into Hermione's own life as the first example, Yiayia had quickly given her a series of metaphors through which they began assessing personalities and different preferred methods of communication. Hermione felt a gap in her knowledge expanding exponentially as Yiayia lectured on, though her mind kept referencing friends and acquaintances each time a particular point or trait was mentioned.

Yiayia chose to break people down into the four elements as a means of describing personalities - Fire, Earth, Water, and Air.

At the outset, Hermione had been dubious... but as the elder witch continued to speak, she found herself nodding along, suddenly realizing that the flowery and seemingly superfluous metaphors were actually quite helpful in learning to view things from other people's perspectives.

"... is any of this resonating for you, darling?" Yiayia asked. Brow furrowed, Hermione nodded emphatically.

"Actually, yes. I can't help but think back to the House system at Hogwarts and how the four houses draw similarities to everything you're describing," she replied. "As you were explaining the Fire-type personality in particular, I'm fairly sure that describes me and almost everyone else in Gryffindor."

Yiayia nodded and smiled.

"So you've discerned your dominant element, then? Good!" she clapped her hands together and sat back, before fixing Hermione with a serious expression. "However, from what I understand of Hogwarts, your Houses are not mutable. That is, you are Sorted and you are what you are, right?"

Hermione nodded, curious to hear more.

"Remember however, that all people are in constant flow. We are not static beings, darling. Eleven-year old Hermione may have been confident and burning to achieve her goals... but fifty-year old Hermione may evolve into a solid, steadfast Earth type. Some people, like yourself may have a dominant element that it will continue to reign over their personalities throughout their lives. However, others may shift. As a young child, can you also say that you were Fire?"

"Y-ye... well, I don't know, actually," Hermione sat back in surprise as she thought about it.

An image sprang into her mind of herself as a little girl... sitting in her room crying after her first day of school. Her parents had taught her to read and write far earlier than her classmates and as a result she had been teased immediately. However, her first instinct hadn't been a fiery one. Rather, she remembered the spiraling discovery of realizing that she was "different"... and she had wondered how to unlearn everything and return the next day as a blank slate. Except... she couldn't. And if anything, that had made her cry harder.

Later, Hermione's parents had found her and intervened - reassuring Hermione that her skills were valuable and that the other kids would come around in time.

"I think underneath, I've always had a fiery drive," she began in response to Yiayia's question, still thinking hard.

"Like you say, I'm motivated by goals, and whenever I've encountered a challenge, I've usually been inspired to handle it head on. But... no, I think when I was little, I was governed by emotions. I wasn't as... confident, I guess. Which... would have made me the opposite, right? I was a Water-type?" She sat forward, wondering if she had understood the nuances.

Again, Yiayia smiled kindly.

"From what Diamantina tells me, I would have pinned you as a Fire type from the get-go. Perhaps little Hermione always had a spark, but it took her a little longer to find the kindling," Yiayia said gently. "It may also have been that, developmentally, it took you a bit longer to get your Water under control. Emotions ebb and flow like the tides and as children, our Watery feeling and desires remain unbound. Generally about the time we go to school we learn how to give them boundaries and keep them in check for the sake of social niceties. But it doesn't come easily to everyone..."

Yiayia trailed off, nodding to herself before her eyes lit up with delight.

"You've seen babies! What a _wonderful_ example of unbound Water! We all begin on this earth as Fire and Water. Our first goals on earth are food and comfort - the Fire in our little beings, but when we're uncomfortable, we dissolve into tears! Oh ho... if only life continued with such simplicity!"

Hermione smiled at the image and distantly wondered how she would handle such a small, dissonant being of her own. _Fire and water?_ Huh.

"However, getting back to the point about the Houses. Do you perhaps know anyone who entered a House as one element and departed as another?"

"Yes." Hermione was surprised to realize her answer was immediate.

Eleven-year old Neville Longbottom sprang to mind. Small and scrawny... perpetually anxious about Trevor the Toad or tearful because of Snape's harsh comments in class.

 _Oh Neville... you had to have been_ _Earth... someone who needs security and stability, who doesn't mind hard work, but is slow to change. And... maybe Water? Going with the flow of others, happy to be wherever feels most comfortable. With emotions just under the surface..._

Her mind changed and resonated with the immensely surprising and powerful moment during the Battle of Hogwarts as her friend... sweet, shy, and bumbling Neville... had suddenly leapt forward to slay Nagini with the Sword of Gryffindor. The swell of pride she had felt then blossomed in her chest and Hermione found herself smiling.

 _Fire, for sure... someone who sees a challenge and is motivated to rise above it... Any opposition or negative feedback is simply fuel for their fire._

Yiayia watched the play of emotions over her face and smiled knowingly.

"You see?" she whispered. "Growth! One of our greatest assets as a species... and may we never grow static nor complacent in our ability to adapt," she sighed happily.

Hermione grinned and nodded. A moment later, however her smile faded and before she could voice her concern, Yiayia held up a ringed finger.

"But let me be clear, darling... that we are _all_ different. There is no "right" or "wrong" way to be. Some of us have dominant elements and will live out our entire lives under the auspices of one. Some of us have secondary ones. Others find balance between all four. There is no positive or negative to being equal or unequal through the four elements... though over time, I do believe it is _advantageous_ to know oneself well enough to be able to navigate them intelligently."

Yiayia paused and lifted an eyebrow at seeing Hermione's dejected expression.

"I... just feel... like I have so much left to learn," Hermione whispered quietly, suddenly despairing at how _difficult_ it was going to be to go against her nature.

Fire didn't seem to lend itself well to the tasks lying in wait ahead of her. From what both Yiayia and Master Kallas had outlined, both of her Mastery societies operated in the grey realm between all of the elements. Neither here nor there and too much of anything seemed to be looked down upon as obvious and distasteful. It seemed just as foreign and confusing as the Pureblood societies she had briefly been exposed to back home.

"I don't think I'm well suited to this... all the social things and subtlety and stuff..."Hermione said lamely, looking down at her lap. Yiayia was silent for a long moment and Hermione heard her take a deep breath. A moment later, a slightly weathered hand bearing gold rings slid into her field of vision as Yiayia reached out to clasp her arm.

When the witch spoke, her voice was warm.

"Hermione, darling. I don't promise that this will be an easy journey for you. There are indeed a great many things that may prove themselves foreign to you. However I appeal to your fire-type nature in saying that, for one so young, it is indeed a noted and _worthy_ goal of wanting to understand the world inside yourself... and also the world around you."

Hermione felt her eyes gathering tears and she looked up, meeting the solid reassuring pair of hazel eyes leaning close.

"As I said earlier, darling. A great many people in this world do not know how to think for themselves. Consider yourself ahead of the game for knowing yourself well enough already to see that not everyone views the world as you do... and that you have _agency_ in wanting to view it another way. That. Is. Amazing. Hermione. Do you understand that?" Yiayia gazed at her with an expression of wonder as a few tears slipped and trickled down Hermione's cheeks.

"I understand," she said, hearing her own words but not quite believing them. _No. Listen. Remember this._

Hermione thought of Cornelius Fudge and his blind refusal to accept the obvious upon Voldemort's return. Of Snape in Harry's first years at Hogwarts - so unwilling to see her friend as anything but the spitting image of his father. Pansy Parkinson, when she had screamed to give Harry over to Lord Voldemort...

No, she would not be like them. So narrow-minded and myopic in their views of the world that they couldn't see what lay before their own eyes. If war had taught her anything it was that nothing was ever as black and white as it seemed.

"I understand," she repeated more firmly. Sniffing, Hermione sat up straight and offered Yiayia a watery smile. "Does this mean I get to continue learning with you?"

At that, Yiayia's expressive face opened into an expression of complete surprise.

"Yes, child! _What_ , you think we're only going to sit in shopfronts and have a nice chat? _Heavens_ , no! I will find a way to squeal you away from my niece when she least expects it," Yiayia promised, chuckling loudly. Hermione found herself giggling along with, wiping her eyes quickly and shaking her head at imagining the slightly-suffering expression that Master Kallas seemed to adopt whenever Yiayia was around.

Yiayia sighed and placed both hands on Hermione's shoulders in a comforting gesture. 'Yiayia' was a befitting name indeed. Hermione suddenly realized, with a rush of appreciation, how much she was already creating space in her heart for the grandmotherly witch.

"Ahh, darling. It will be a delight to work with you. However, before I give you that promise, I must ask for one in return," she said gently, her hazel eyes soft. Hermione placed her hands over Yiayia's.

"Anything." The witch smiled at her instant answer and drew close, bringing her forehead so that it was close to bumping Hermione's and she found herself enveloped in the comforting scents of lavender and peppermint.

Yiayia's eyes crinkled and Hermione found herself smiling back, nearly cross-eyed with their close proximity.

"I need you to _promise me_..." the witch began in an expressive voice, "That... despite the bumps and bruises along our journey together, you will _endeavor_... _to the best of your ability!_ " Hermione nodded, smiling again at the slightly dramatic tone of voice.

"... Not to judge yourself too harshly," Yiayia whispered, her eyes wide. Hermione nodded, feeling a lump arise at the back of her throat.

"And to honor your moments of _vulnerability_..." She nodded again, feeling her eyes grow moist, unconsciously thinking of the scars marring several places on her body.

"... To _celebrate_ in those moments, _for it is our vulnerabilities_ , darling... that reveal the best part of our humanity! Never forget that our vulnerabilities reveal exactly how much _we care_."

Hermione nodded emphatically, tears once again spilling down her face as Yiayia finished her speech, punctuating the last word with a finger on her nose. Hermione cried openly, throwing her arms around the older witch as Yiayia returned the hug with a strong one of her own.

There were so many emotions running through her.

Gratitude for the witch before her and all that she had just shared with Hermione. Uncertainty and fear at the global events that were somehow trickling down and affecting her small corner of the world. Confusion regarding her future... regarding her feelings for Master Kallas. Doubt in herself... A good amount of fatigue beneath it all, and unexpectedly, a wave of homesickness that was somehow softened by Yiayia's soothing embrace.

The elder witch rocked her slightly and rubbed her back as she might a child and Hermione allowed herself to be held, seeking refuge in the familiar presence of someone clearly much older and wiser than she.

Eventually, Hermione stemmed the flow of tears and pulled away, a little embarrassed at how quickly she had lost control of her emotions. _Ironic, seeing as I'm supposedly made of Fire._

Yiayia remained close and patted her knee gently as Hermione wiped her eyes, chuckling lightly at herself and how the elder witch had already managed to make her cry three times in one afternoon. Yiayia opened her mouth to speak but tilted her head suddenly as if hearing something unexpected.

"Ahhh... but another fire spirit this way comes. Ground yourself, Hermione, this one promises to be a whirlwind…" Yiayia said conspiratorially while raising her eyebrows.

A moment later she turned and rose dramatically as Master Kallas' niece stepped through the doors with a flourish of royal blue silk.

"Ahh, my darling Angeliki! Come come come! Maria should be just about finished!" Yiayia exclaimed, throwing both arms open and wiggling her fingers in anticipation. Hermione stood and waited quietly, quickly wiping away the remnants of her tears and hoping that she didn't look as tired and emotional as she felt.

"Yiayia... Hermione." Ana said, moving in to hug Yiayia. Hazel eyes flicked and gave Hermione a brief once over.

"Hello, Miss -" Wanting to be polite, Hermione trailed off, forgetting again that she didn't know this witch well either. _Is it Kallas?_ She hadn't noticed a ring…

"Kallas-Villas, actually. But please, call me Ana," the witch said neutrally. The taller witch looked unsure of how to respond to her presence. Hermione waited, feeling remarkably calm after her discussion with Yiayia.

 _So... Ana is fiery?_

"It's a pleasure to officially meet you, Ana," she replied warmly. Ana merely glanced at her before shifting her attention to Yiayia. She began speaking rapidly in Greek and Hermione gathered that she was meant to feel slighted.

Only she didn't.

For whatever reason, Ana appeared to be critical of Hermione - something that she had picked up the night before and something that would have normally grated on her and made her want to change the witch's mind. But not today. She would wait to see what the other woman revealed about herself before she cast judgment.

Hermione's eyes flicked to Yiayia who seemed to be watching her approvingly. A moment later the elder witch held up a hand.

"As _fascinating_ as your life is, darling… I fear that Maria has kept us waiting rather a long while. Chat with Hermione for a moment while I withdraw to the restroom, won't you?"

The elder witch left in a flourish of ivory robes, leaving Hermione and Ana alone.

The taller witch crossed her arms and pursed her lips, her light hazel eyes narrowing as she was finally forced to gaze at Hermione directly. Hermione felt her cheeks flush slightly under the scrutiny, but she lifted her chin and returned the appraising gaze with a clear one of her own.

The silence between them grew more awkward but Hermione waited patiently. She wasn't about to initiate this challenge.

The other witch tilted her head back slightly, her burnished curls sliding along her neck attractively.

A moment later, Ana's lips curled into a sneer.

" _So_ … are you fucking my favorite aunt?"

* * *

Ana waited, feeling a measure of satisfaction spread through her as the younger witch flushed and shifted, her face registering both shock and anger at the crass question. _Serves her right_.

A moment later, however, she was surprised when the witch chuckled unexpectedly, shaking her head, her curls falling about her face lightly. Hermione looked up at her with a strangely open expression - a mix of amusement, patience, and fatigue.

"Well… no, actually," she replied, slowly. Ana opened her mouth to retort but the younger woman's expression twisted into self-consciousness. "Not that I don't have it on my agenda. But… to be honest, I've never slept with a woman before and I'm worried that your aunt might just manage to kill me…"

Hermione's brittle voice trailed off and she shrugged slightly, looking down at her boots. Despite herself, Ana felt her heart softening at the little witchling. Then abruptly hardening again as she registered her words. _The audacity! Dia would never consider -_

Her outrage faded as she realized - Yes, Dia _would_.

And it was most certainly on her aunt's mind if the constant stream of thinly veiled pride and appreciation of her apprentice was any indication. But somehow, as she stared at Hermione, Ana felt an unwanted niggle of sympathy for the witch's predicament. Her aunt _was_ Diamantina Kallas after all. Hell, _she_ would be intimidated.

' _... she might just manage to kill me'_

A moment later, Ana blinked and felt a genuine smile spread itself slowly over her features. Her ire quietly dissolved as she stared, watching Hermione scuff her boots lightly on the floor.

She was rather sweet, now that Ana thought about it.

And _really_ , who had ever responded to her temper with heartfelt honesty?

A chuckle started deep in her chest before rumbling its way upward, tickling the back of her throat, before bursting from her lips as fully-fledged laughter while Hermione looked up in bewilderment. Ana threw her head back and let herself revel in the suddenly all-encompassing amusement that this little witch had incited. Tears streamed from her eyes and she wiped them delicately, her face still flushed.

This witch had _no_ idea what she was in for.

As her laughter abated, Ana stood and took stock of the young woman before her.

Large caramel eyes were watching her warily, clearly unsure of how to react to her strange outburst. _Hmmm_. Those eyes knew the difference between real and perceived danger - of that Ana was certain. Perhaps there was more to this witchling than her aura of naïveté suggested...

Ana allowed her eyes to travel over the witch's lithe form. _Strong and integrated. I see Dia has been working her hard..._

Then there had been that interesting scene she had viewed from the street... Yiayia would never have allowed such closeness with one of Dia's charges unless she had perceived something important.

 _Either everyone has fallen under this witch's spell..._ _or..._

Ana tensed and then immediately relaxed as she realized she was a hair away from prowling around her aunt's apprentice like a tiger. She changed the movement into a smoothing of her robes and wondered how to proceed.

The young witch was staring at her suspiciously by now as the silence stretched longer between them. Ana's eyes narrowed as Hermione shifted...

And she was surprised to see that beneath the suspicion, those eyes revealed a hint of confusion. Anxiety. Insecurity.

At once, Ana felt genuinely abashed for how she had treated the witchling earlier.

To be so young and alone... in foreign place with foreign customs...

 _No, no, no..._ This would not do.

Yiayia's lessons were more than adequate, yes, but the little witch clearly needed a different example. Konstantinos would need to give her a foundation, but Ana could show Hermione what she needed regarding-

 _Ah..._ Well there it was.

It seemed her decision had presented itself.

Lifting her chin slightly, Ana lowered herself into a graceful curtsy, feeling her features match the guilt she felt.

"I apologize, Hermione... I have been rude and unwelcoming to you in the short span of time since we've met, and I see that I have been in error. I hope that you may forgive my temper and that perhaps we might start afresh," she said earnestly. Rising, she gestured to the sofa. "For one, I would be very curious to hear how it was that you decided upon coming to Naxos of all places..."

Ana trailed off, leaving the invitation open.

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she remained unmoving for a long moment. A moment later, Hermione drew herself upwards, somehow managing to convey a gathering of power...

Unexpectedly, Ana felt a thread of apprehension as she waited for the witch's response.

"All right" Hermione replied evenly. The witchling shrugged once before deflating slightly and breezing past Ana to sit on the sofa, folding her robes neatly, and looking up - her large eyes betraying nothing but full interest and curiosity.

Ana felt her own eyes widen in disbelief. She let out a breathy chuckle before settling next to Hermione, suddenly intensely curious to discover what other hidden surprises the little witch held in store.

Nothing was unfolding as she had expected.

 _What an interesting challenge this will be._

* * *

Dia's thoughts were somewhat troubled as she made her way back from the post office. After sending an owl off with a reply and a small package, she cast a tempus and saw that there was little over an hour remaining before she and Hermione needed to be at the jewelers. Absently, she realized she should be thankful for Yiayia and Ana's persistent badgering as the day would have unfolded much differently if her aunt hadn't been there to stay with Hermione.

But her niece?

Dia bit back a wince as her footsteps quickly carried her back to the alterations shop. Ana would have arrived by now. A steady rain was falling from dark skies and its impact skittered lightly upon the Shield Charm Dia had cast around herself.

Ana was being unpredictable and ill-tempered as usual. But now that she knew more about Hermione and her own wily ways… _well…_ Dia sped up, robes whipping her legs as she fairly sprinted over the cobblestones, her mind extrapolating several unpleasant scenarios between the two witches.

The last thing she needed at this moment was some sort of confrontation.

The familiar white sign with elegant gold letters quickly appeared, and she felt a measure of relief. Slowing down to collect herself, Dia passed a careful hand over her twist and smoothed the residual moisture off her robes with a gentle gesture. Upon entering the shop, her ears perked up and she was surprised to hear the low tones of what sounded like pleasant conversation.

"Hello?" she called uncertainly, striding into the adjoining room.

As she stepped into the cozy atmosphere of the fitting room, Dia's eyes quickly absorbed her niece and her apprentice standing on small stools while Maria was apparently fitting the both of them. The two witches faced each other, and though they had both turned at her arrival Dia noted that they both appeared relaxed and… happy.

"Ah, Diamantina! Your aunt stepped out a while ago. Something about urgent business with the Council. I'm almost finished with these two… I'm sure the three of you have lovely plans for the rest of the day," Maria explained around a mouthful of pins.

"Theia… I'm sure you _do_ have plans for the rest of the day, but I was just telling Hermione a bit more about the family. She really should meet Konstantinos… they would get along so well," Ana said, her hazel eyes alight. Another glance proved that Hermione was just as interested in the idea as her niece.

Dia felt her own eyes narrow at the strange scene she had walked into. Ana adored her older brother and was possessive of him much in the way she was with Dia herself. Somehow, in the past hour, the two witches had managed to become fast friends if Ana had been willing to divulge information about the family.

Dia wasn't sure whether she liked the notion or not.

"We shall see, darling. It may be possible for us to stop by later this evening, but we must also regain our footing after recent events," she responded diplomatically. From the floor, Maria clucked lightly. The entire Pharmakeion was talking about the ISOS violations.

"Ah yes, the condensed schedule," Ana replied evenly, nodding toward Hermione. Her apprentice merely smiled softly, lifting an eyebrow coquettishly that clearly communicated something specific that made Ana chuckle conspiratorially.

No, Dia wasn't sure that she liked it at all.

Still, Ana was right. Hermione would need to study with Konstantinos at some point and sooner rather than later. The idea held merit.

"Please send word to your brother and ask when it would be convenient for us to stop by next week. He will have to send word by owl as both Eleni and Stelios are away until Sunday," she said. Predictably, Ana frowned.

"Is everything alright?" she asked quietly, her gaze flicking down to Maria. Dia nodded reassuringly.

"Quite. They simply have other duties to attend to this weekend that demand their full attention," she responded, not wanting to say more in front of Maria or Hermione.

"So we will be returning to home after this?" Hermione asked, somewhat hopefully. Dia turned to reply softly, knowing how tired her apprentice was, but her niece interrupted rudely.

"Gamoto! You don't even tell your apprentice where you're going?" Ana asked incredulously, flinching slightly as Maria whacked her leg. _"What?"_

Dia glared.

"Anipsiá mou, you cast judgment as quickly as you run your mouth," she growled softly, allowing a hard edge to sneak into her voice. Her niece had been treading dangerous ground for several days. "If you know what's good for you, you will mind your manners and keep your nose out of my business."

 _"I thought you would be happy to see us getting along, Dia,"_ Ana innocently replied in Greek.

"Happier if you understood your place, Angeliki," Dia snapped, allowing her basket to drop to the floor as she swept her robes aside. Maria rose from the floor with raised eyebrows and quietly moved over to pin Hermione's hem, clearly giving Dia space to do what she wished.

Quickly, Dia erected a bubble around the two of them, ensuring that Maria and Hermione would not be privy to their continued conversation. Ana's eyes widened in dismay and she shrank back slightly as Dia continued in a low whisper, drawing close to her niece like a lion stalking its prey.

"You have been nothing but insolent, jealous, and ungrateful for the last several weeks, not to mention the last several _days_ , and I'm supposed to forgive you immediately just because you are _getting along?_ No no no, child. Don't play coy with me. If you wish for more time with me, have the courage to admit it rather than demand it through spite. You are an adult and I expect you to act like one. I will not permit you to interrupt my life nor my _duties_ simply because it pleases your fancies. Perhaps you haven't noticed, but the world is dealing with issues larger than your problems, Angeliki. When you are ready to join the rest of us in countering them, let me know."

Ana rocked back as though she had been slapped. She stared for a moment, hazel eyes widening gradually as she slowly realized that she had pushed her aunt too far. A moment later, her cheeks flushed in earnest and she lowered her gaze. Her eyes briefly darted to the right, but Dia steadfastly ignored both Maria and her apprentice. _Yes, you should be embarrassed, anipsiá._

A moment later Ana sank into a deep curtsy, head bowed in supplication.

"I apologize for my words and actions, my aunt. What you say is true," she said softly.

Dia took a deep breath, not quite ready to forgive so easily. Ana was too willing to press her buttons. This was not the way a witch of her caliber should conduct herself. Dia remained silent a moment longer, watching her niece wait for her acknowledgment.

"You have a great deal of work to do on yourself, Angeliki. You consistently antagonize me in ways that I find distasteful. I will not tolerate your disrespect and I will not tolerate _you_ should you bring dishonor to the family with your insolence," she said coldly. She heard Ana gasp quietly, one pale hand flying to cover her mouth even as she remained bowed low. Good. _The truth hurts._

"I am truly sorry, theia," Ana whispered, voice constricted, and Dia heard the telltale mark of tears. It was unfortunate that they were having this conversation in a public place, but it appeared that Ana needed the extra motivation. She would not allow her behavior to continue.

"Rise, Angeliki."

Ana stood, her eyes red-rimmed and her beautiful face streaked with tears. Dia waited for a long moment as Ana trembled slightly, but inside she was proud that her niece merely lifted her chin and waited respectfully.

"Angeliki, I say this because I love you and you deserve my honesty. I will always love you and you must trust that I will never waver in that fact. It is the nature of life and adulthood that our paths will diverge from time to time, but no matter where my obligations lead me, our family will alway comes first. _Always._ Do you understand me?"

Ana nodded emphatically, her lips pursing as she bit back another wave of tears. Beneath the lesson she was imparting, Dia felt her heart seize.

"Come here," she said finally and Ana fairly launched herself off the stool, falling into Dia's embrace as she cried, softly murmuring further apologies. Dia held her niece and stroked her back in a gesture that was as familiar to her as breathing. _Oh Ana… I never did get it quite right with you…_

She let her adult niece cry for a moment longer before stepping back and placing her hands on the woman's shoulders. Ana quickly dried her eyes and sniffed, still unable to meet her gaze. The younger witch swiftly turned and stepped back onto the stool, bowing low again as Dia dissolved the spell that had kept their conversation private.

"I apologize for my outburst, Madam Anastos and Apprentice Granger. Please forgive me for disturbing your afternoon," Ana said formally. Maria waved a hand and murmured something quietly in Greek. Sniffing quietly, Dia mused that the elegant witch had likely borne witness to several such meltdowns over the years.

"Nothing to forgive," Hermione said softly, gazing at her new friend in sympathy. Dia watched the young witch carefully, but all she saw was concern for Ana and a hint of curiosity. Her niece looked up after a moment and returned Hermione's smile with a wavering one of her own, clearly embarrassed by her behavior.

A moment later, large caramel eyes flicked to her and Dia sighed inwardly when she saw the open curiosity there betray a glimmer of fear. Anger was not an emotional state that Hermione had witnessed from her. They would have to discuss more at home.

With typical charmed timing, Yiayia chose that moment to sweep back into the shop, calling formal greetings loudly even as she burst into the back room. She swept among everyone bestowing kisses as though she hadn't seen them all in years.

"Ah darlings! I trust we are almost finished?" she asked, eyes quickly absorbing the tense scene before her.

They settled on Dia and Yiayia raised her eyebrows as Dia simply nodded.

"Indeed," she sighed tiredly.

That had been quiet enough excitement to last her until the holidays.

* * *

kopelia - doll, darling  
gamoto - Fuck/Shit (rude word deserving of an _upcha!_ on the side of one's head :p)  
kataifi - rolled dessert of honey and nuts nested in shredded phyllo dough, covered with sweet syrup and pistachio.  
baklava - typically triangular pastry layered with phyllo dough interspersed with honey, nuts, and spices.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: The "day" is almost over! I promise!_

 _I've been writing out of order, so it might be a bit longer between the upcoming chapters. To be clear, all of our story has taken place over three days beginning on Sunday, Nov. 14, 1999. "Today" is finishing out - Tuesday the 16th and the emergency session of the ICW will convene "tomorrow" on Wednesday, the 17th. I anticipate the remainder of the coming "week" will be similarly jam-packed and then we'll start to move onward from there._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Hermione trailed behind Master Kallas by just a half step, but even in her fatigue, she knew she was being cowardly.

The rain had abated somewhat though the streets had largely remained empty, and they had moved amongst the dark puddles quietly. Once again, Hermione had been thankful that neither she nor her master felt the need to fill the silence with conversation. The smell of fresh rain had provided a wave of comfort, and Master Kallas had seemed to understand her need for space.

Hermione had been happy to finally leave Anastos - not that the appointment had been unpleasant, but she had felt overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information she had absorbed in such a short time from both Yiayia and Ana respectively, and then… that unexpected argument she had witnessed that continued to burn in the back of her mind like a bad Forget-Me-Not charm.

Upon arriving to the jeweler's, Hermione had once again felt slightly oversensitized as she had been introduced to Madam Argyris, who Master Kallas had later confided was the matriarch of one of the five oldest Wizarding families in Athens. The small elderly witch had spoken no English and had greeted Master Kallas with a strange series of what Hermione had interpreted to be formal gestures, ending by kissing the top of her master's head as Master Kallas had practically bent over at the waist to allow it.

The wizened witch had quickly turned to Hermione and kissed both of her cheeks deliberately, smiling up at her through crinkled eyes as Master Kallas had rattled off a long string of Greek that made Hermione's head spin. They were joined shortly by the witch's three sons who bowed to Master Kallas reverently and quickly began jotting down notes as she flitted about the store, gazing at different stones shrewdly and pointing at different designs.

Hermione waited near the door, unsure of what to do, until it finally became clear that Master Kallas was in the process of negotiating the price. They had wrapped up shortly thereafter - Madam Argyris again appearing to bestow them with papery kisses while the three sons had kissed their hands respectively before escorting them to the door.

Wearily, Hermione had followed Master Kallas back into the silvery streets of the Pharmakeion - neither of them saying a word as they had both sighed in relief.

Her head ached - both literally and figuratively, but Hermione strove to remain collected as she followed - gazing down at the slippery cobblestones as she dutifully planted one foot in front of the other.

"Darling?"

The soft word made her look up abruptly and she saw that Master Kallas was gazing at her in concern. Blushing, Hermione took two steps forward in realizing she had fallen farther behind than she had thought.

"I'm sorry, Master," she muttered, somehow unable to hold the clear gaze for more than a moment. Guiltily, she heard her master's subtle sigh as they continued walking, however her anxiety melted slightly when she realized the elder witch wasn't going to pry.

They continued to walk in silence, while Hermione tried to puzzle through her conflicting thoughts and emotions.

 _What is with_ _you? Earlier this morning you were mooning over her like a puppy… and now, just because you saw her upset, you're acting like a teenager. She's been upset with you before..._

Briefly, her mind flashed to the strange scene in the alterations room just as Master Kallas had silenced her argument with Ana. Though Hermione had tried to keep her attention on Madam Anastos, she had glanced up once and immediately regretted doing so.

No, she had never seen Master Kallas upset like that...

Her master's anger had been chilling.

Hermione knew rationally, that Master Kallas was considered a powerful witch, but it was one thing to know and another thing to _witness._ The petite woman had seemed to absorb energy from the space around her, somehow becoming much larger and more terrible as she had glared Ana into trembling submission.

Even Master Kallas' features had seemed more beautiful and harsh as she had clearly given her niece a thorough dressing-down, and Hermione had felt a stab of fear at seeing the familiar face transformed into such an alien mask of cold fury.

She was so wrapped in her thoughts, that Hermione nearly face-planted as one tired foot caught the edge of an uneven stone and she flew forward in surprise. Her master's hand shot out an instant later, and Hermione found herself automatically turning to thank Master Kallas who easily caught her in one strong arm.

As she turned her head to the left, Hermione froze as her eyes unerringly caught the familiar seafoam gaze that had so recently narrowed and gazed at Ana with unfeeling anger. Their faces were close... mirroring similar expressions of surprise. Hermione's words of gratitude quickly died on her lips as her master's eyes revealed such expressive concern that nearly took her breath away.

 _How are these the same eyes?_

Unexpectedly, her mind chose that moment to filter back to Yiayia's lecture about people. With surprise, Hermione realized she had never thought to analyze her own enigmatic master. _Of course!_

"Which house were you in?" Hermione blurted before thinking. Coming back to her surroundings with a start, she realized they were standing in the middle of a very public lane. _Shit_.

"Err… Which house were you in, Master?" she quickly amended respectfully, stepping back and squaring her shoulders in a way befitting of a Kallas apprentice. Master Kallas' brow was furrowed in confusion and she simply looked at Hermione for a long moment before offering her right arm.

Feeling no cause for hesitation, Hermione slid into place and they resumed their walk at a more meandering pace. _Good. This is your_ _master … __you can work through this._

"I assume you speak of Hogwarts," Master Kallas stated softly, so much so that Hermione found herself leaning closer to hear her over the sounds of the street. Now that the rain had abated, the Pharmakeion had come back to life.

"You know I didn't attend your school, my apprentice." Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"I know. But I also know that you must have spent time there with Prof...er, Minerva, while you were apprenticing. You must have had some thoughts about the House system," she replied. Master Kallas chuckled lightly and Hermione felt a thread of tension unwind itself from the pit of her stomach.

"You are correct as usual. I lived there for six years and taught as a professor for five. Naturally, both Minerva and Albus wanted me to don the Sorting Hat the instant I finished my first classifications," Master Kallas said. From the strange tone of voice, Hermione glanced to the side and saw the witch smiling at the memory, her face a mix of amusement and sadness.

"And…?" she asked hopefully. The question earned her a brighter smile and Master Kallas moved her other hand to rub Hermione's forearm gently.

"What do you imagine it told me, Apprentice?" she asked coyly. Put out at having her question reversed, Hermione frowned. _Which House_ would _Master Kallas have belonged to?_

"Well… from your intellect and interest in learning, I would have guessed Ravenclaw…" she began, thinking hard. "But you value knowledge that lies beyond textbooks and you certainly don't _act_ like a Ravenclaw. You know how to put people at ease… you're incredibly loyal to those you hold close, but I don't know that you'd be a Hufflepuff either. You're courageous in how you face the world head on, but you're not impulsive like the rest of us in Gryffindor."

"A lot of how I behave is learned, darling," Master Kallas supplied quietly. The elder witch looked straight ahead and moved them to one side to avoid a rather large puddle boasting a few muddied pages from the Wizarding newspaper.

Hermione considered that bit of information. Her master was effortlessly composed. Cordial and warm with almost everyone she met, but it was rare that the witch actually revealed her true thoughts and feelings. If anything, she was decisive and cunning… _Oh._

"You're Slytherin…" Hermione breathed in awe, knowing as soon as she said it that she was correct.

"Yes." The answer was curt and Hermione wondered if she had offended her master in her surprise. Another side glance confirmed that the witch's features were drawn into an impassive mask.

"I do think…" Hermione began, feeling the muscles under her hand tense slightly. "That you are perhaps the most _pleasant_ Slytherin that I've ever met," she said honestly.

Master Kallas turned to look at her, a small smile gracing her lips. A moment later a shadow appeared to fall across her face and the witch sighed softly, shaking her head tiredly.

In the blue-ish light from the sky, Hermione noticed the beginnings of dark circles marring the smooth skin beneath almond-shaped eyes. She felt a soft sensation of curiosity at realizing it was the first time she had ever seen her master appearing anything other than effortlessly composed… and a moment later Hermione felt a swift rush of pride at being allowed to witness such a small glimpse of her humanity. The earlier moment in the alterations shop was forgotten, and Hermione found herself wanting to honor that frailty and to protect it fiercely.

She was so caught up in the abrupt flood of emotion that she almost didn't register the curious look her master gave her before continuing.

"I do understand your House system, Hermione… but I have never believed in it as ardently as many have wished," Master Kallas said softly. Hermione's heart stilled and she wasn't sure how she felt about the quiet statement.

Hogwarts had been - _No, it_ _was_ … her home in so many ways. Her whole entry into the Magical world had happened because of Hogwarts and Hermione's immediate response was to bristle at the perceived slight against it. However, knowing her master never cast judgment without forming a solid argument first, Hermione suspended her thoughts and waited patiently.

"You see, darling… before you arrived to the conclusion that the Sorting Hat did indeed place me into Slytherin, you first filtered through the attributes of all the other Houses and found aspects of my being that would have also served me well had I been sorted into them. However, all of those facets were also the first to be negated upon your realization that I was sorted into a House you find undesirable."

Hermione flushed at realizing her master was right.

"Your Hogwarts system is wonderful in that it provides students with an immediate community in which they will find others of similar interests, personalities, and characteristics. In particular, it is helpful to those who come from abroad, who are only children, who have been outcasts in their own families, or who are Muggle-born like yourself… these students find an instant network of people upon whom they can depend upon and who are celebrated for similar traits that they themselves possess."

"I…. I never thought about it that way," Hermione replied honestly. Being in Gryffindor had always been a badge of pride and honor, but more than that she realized her own feelings were mirrored by Master Kallas' words. _Community_ … _That's it!_

Everything she had loved about Hogwarts stemmed from her companions.

Harry. Ron. Ginny… The majority of her friends had always been in Gryffindor, and Hermione had known without fail, that she could depend upon them to support and defend her without question and despite the occasional squabble… they were _her_ people. That simple knowledge was anchoring and reassuring, and Hermione treasured the warmth and security that her House always provided.

Prior to arriving at Hogwarts, she had always been a loner - lost in school, too strange and obsessed with books to be interesting to her Muggle classmates, and too annoying and perplexing to have found company with anyone older.

All of that had dissolved following those first few harrowing minutes of sitting on the stool in the Great Hall while the Hat had deliberated between sending her to Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.

While her first year had been an adjustment, after she had connected with Harry and Ron, Hermione had finally felt as though she had a family of sorts… people who were always excited and happy to hear how her academic achievements benefitted their whole, people who she could turn to with questions and who could turn to her in return.

In all her Gryffindor-ness and pride, Hermione realized that she had never thought to consider what she might have truly gained _had_ she chosen Ravenclaw as the Hat had initially suggested, let alone Hufflepuff… or Slytherin.

With a jolt, Hermione suddenly became aware that _now_ … in the course of her Apprenticeships she was indeed cultivating many of those other attributes that she would have once associated with other Houses…. _Wisdom and knowledge from Ravenclaw_. That was a given.

 _Perhaps loyalty, honesty, and patience from Hufflepuff..._ in the course of her relationship to Master Kallas.

 _And… yes, even **you,**_ _the Princess of Gryffindor are learning about ambition, cunning, and subtlety from Slytherin._

Hermione felt her mouth fall slack slightly as once again, Master Kallas had effortlessly shifted the tectonic plates of her mind. _Merlin's bollocks! Especially after that conversation with Yiayia… you really_ haven't _given any thought to developing your other intelligences… you would have been happy to remain a posterchild for Gryffindor forever._

"Do you not consider yourself a Slytherin, then?" Hermione asked softly, wondering if her master felt pigeonholed in a manner similar to the feeling that was beginning to dawn upon herself.

Master Kallas didn't respond right away, instead choosing to tug upon her elbow and draw them down a narrow alleyway that Hermione hadn't even noticed.

"Yes and no," came the brisk reply a moment later. Hermione frowned at the evasion and opened her mouth to ask another question, before being brought up short by confusion. They paused at a dead end in front of a brick wall with peeling white paint and a few scratches of graffiti. _What are we doing?_

"I thought you might want a bite to eat after such a long day," Master Kallas said, full lips smiling knowingly as Hermione's puzzlement gave way into the realization that she was indeed quite hungry.

" _Lefká krína_ ," Master Kallas stated clearly, still looking at Hermione softly.

Immediately, the brick wall before them dissolved into an elegant pathway bordered by thin shoots of bamboo that were lit from below, creating a luminous natural green archway for them to walk beneath. The dirty, worn cobblestones of the alleyway were replaced by a smooth dark boardwalk, and Master Kallas pulled Hermione along gently, a small curve still gracing her lips.

Still admiring the remarkable change of scenery, Hermione was startled when she detected movement ahead of them. A young wizard in fitted black robes strode forward, and behind him Hermione noticed a darkened entryway and the telltale flicker of candlelight from within.

" _Angliká_ ," Master Kallas said swiftly before the young wizard could open his mouth. The man gave a swift nod in reply, opening a hand to indicate they should follow him.

"The usual table, Master?" he asked politely.

"That would be lovely, thank you Giorgios," Master Kallas replied.

As they passed through the darkened foyer, Hermione's eyes adjusted and realized they were an elegant and unexpectedly modern restaurant. Their host led them through an open area and past a beautiful and well-stocked bar, before turning around a corner and leading them up a sweeping staircase whose black glass steps seemed to be suspended by magic.

A moment later they arrived to another open room, this one with floor-to-ceiling walls opening to a breathtaking view of the Pharmakeion, Athens, and a distant view of the Acropolis.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped at the beautiful sight, feeling herself draw closer to the windows. Distantly, she heard Master Kallas chuckle and murmur a few words in Greek.

The sky was shifting to evening and the dark clouds that had poured over them earlier now hung in the distance… a deep, rolling contrast to the bright fleck of the Acropolis and the brightly colored rooftops spread beneath it. Immediately below, the Pharmakeion's torches seemed to burn like fairy lights, and with the dark ambiance, Hermione felt a pang of emotion as she gazed over the lovely sight that seemed to impress itself upon the room like a luminous backdrop.

"Come, my apprentice…" Master Kallas whispered over one shoulder, once again startling Hermione from her thoughts.

They sat at a table in a corner near the windows, angled so that Hermione could continue to appreciate the view. She had experienced a moment of confusion of looking about the restaurant and somehow being unable to focus on the other patrons who were sitting nearby. Master Kallas explained that there were a series of subtle privacy charms in effect, protecting identities and allowing everyone to enjoy their meal in peace.

"I do consider myself a Slytherin and I am proud of that fact," Master Kallas stated after a moment of gazing in silence.

Realizing her master was continuing their earlier conversation, Hermione stared at her evenly, willing the other witch to see her genuine curiosity rather than prejudice.

"Actually, it has just occurred to me that perhaps you are indeed right. Hogwarts does seem to place an unfortunate emphasis on House pride that does not lend itself toward inter-house unity," Hermione replied, letting her gaze slide as she thought hard. "In fact, if anything, unity and cooperation seem somewhat discouraged."

Master Kallas tilted her chin thoughtfully, as her gazed dropped to the tea lights twinkling between them. Her long lashes cast delicate shadows over her cheeks and she waited a moment before replying.

"I did not mean to cause you to question the system that raised you, darling. Hogwarts is an excellent school and the House system is indeed a helpful one. However, I had the advantage of coming from abroad and as a result, have never seemed to view it with the deferential nature that those from Great Britain tend to bestow upon it," Master Kallas said, plucking an empty wineglass from the table.

"It was also a challenging experience, as you might imagine, to suddenly belong to a House that possesses such a dark and complicated reputation within your culture. As an outsider from that respect, I also found myself seeing things in a different light."

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt at that.

Her own knowledge of Slytherin House was marred by people like Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. But as she gazed across the table, Hermione couldn't help but wonder how many other Slytherins would grow to become people as delicately nuanced and talented as Master Kallas… and who she might have inadvertently dismissed simply because of her own prejudices toward their house colors.

The elder witch twirled her empty glass for a moment and then drew it to her lips as it filled with wine. A moment later Master Kallas waved a hand at Hermione in a fluttering motion reminiscent of Yiayia.

"Concentrate on whatever it is that you would like to drink and it will come, darling," she explained.

Curious, Hermione plucked her own glass from the table and thought for a moment. Bizarrely, she found herself desiring a rather expensive highland malt whiskey she had once shared with the Weasley brothers during one of the celebrations after the Battle of Hogwarts. _Now **that**_ _had been a night to remember._

At once, her glass transformed into a tumbler and filled itself with a neat portion of amber liquid and a few crystalline ice cubes. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.

"Wow… _that_ is…" she trailed off and frowned suspiciously. "How do they do that?"

Master Kallas laughed - a light, airy sound that rippled over Hermione's body from head to toe. She shivered slightly as the petite witch across from her looked at her fondly, eyes dancing in the candlelight.

"It's not Elves, if that's what you're worried about, darling… _The Secret Garden_ is at the forefront of many innovations when it comes to mixing magic and gastronomy," Master Kallas purred, lifting her eyebrows slightly while taking another sip of wine.

Hermione made a mental note to reference which sort of enchantments could possible discern, identify, and replicate an individual's wishes with such immediacy. That had to be a mix of Charms, Transfiguration, and an impressive storeroom of ingredients. The implications were astounding.

Taking a sip of the whiskey, Hermione found her eyes closing in pleasure while her sinuses buzzed lightly with the first burst of smooth smoky notes hitting her tastebuds. _Ohhh… that is sinfully good._ As she opened her eyes, Hermione blushed at the soft expression of bemusement gracing her master's face.

"Will you tell me about your schooling?" Hermione asked quickly, attempting to return her glass to the table as demurely as possible. _Smooth, girl._

Master Kallas' face quickly transformed from relaxed to pensive. Hermione's attention zeroed in upon the witch's full lips as she slowly wet them and then bit the bottom one. Her pulse jumped slightly, but fortunately her master didn't notice.

"Well… I began my schooling early as most affluent families in Athens do," Master Kallas said quietly. "I did not realize until much older how much of a privilege that was."

Hermione watched the play of emotions across Master Kallas' face, marveling at how the calm features managed to betray such a variety of micro-expressions.

"I was fortunate in that both the Kallas and the Kefalas families have always been the most liberal in their leanings… of the five Pureblood families in Athens, that is. Yiayia is actually a wonderful testament to the Kefalas name... It has always been a matriarchal family and is well known for producing witches of high caliber, even if they have been considered unorthodox at times. I feel very fortunate to have been provided with that example from a young age and to have been encouraged to follow it to whatever degree or passion that my heart desired."

"My mother arranged private tutors for my sister and I as children. There are less restrictions on underage magic than you have in Great Britain and as a result, I began Potion brewing as early as six and studying Arithmancy, History, Numerology, and Runes around age eight. Formal training, of course, begins at eleven as it does at Hogwarts… however, I continued with tutors until I was thirteen. Mother insisted that I remain in Greece to cultivate my cultural identity through the first two years of higher education."

"It seems she succeeded," Hermione said lightly, eyes flicking down toward Master Kallas' robes which held a slip of Greek key around the edges. Her mentor smiled.

"Indeed," she murmured, gazing out the window as she reminisced. "At the time, of course, I was quite incensed about it. All of my friends had told me stories of their schooling and I wished to join them… but in retrospect, those two years were some of the happiest years of my life."

Master Kallas paused and sipped her wine, leaving it on the table and clasping it in both hands. Hermione watched, transfixed as one thumb continued to rub the rim absently.

"My mother was a rather traditional witch despite having been borne into one of the least traditional wizarding families in Athens. My early memories of her are faint, but she took a personal hand in my education as soon as I had chosen a wand. Beyond the tutors, my mother ensured that I built a strong base in dueling and defense. We used to practice on Mount Zeus together on rainy days." Master Kallas smiled and bit her lip at the memory, shaking her head lightly before continuing.

"She also ensured that I knew my way around Muggle Athens. We would take day trips to see all the old archeological sites… she was fascinated with architecture - something she likely picked up from Yiayia along the way, but she was insistent that I learn about Muggle history, technology, and science… and she used to challenge me to see where non-magical innovation could be used for inspiration. She was always worried that I would grow up to use my magic gratuitously."

Hermione listened raptly, trying to imagine her illustrious master as a gawky eleven-year old learning about subways and telephones. Truthfully, she also felt a hint of envy. _Imagine, to have had so much Magical knowledge freely given! It's no wonder she's such a powerful witch!_

"After tutoring however… of course the time came where I had to choose a school."

At that, Hermione sat forward eagerly. Geographically, it would have made most sense for Master Kallas to have attended either Hogwarts or Beauxbatons, but she knew from other discussions that her master had not attended school in Europe.

"My family left me to my research, and to their simultaneous delight and dismay, I chose Uagadou."

"Oh! But…" Hermione felt her eyes glaze over as several points vied for precedence in her mind.

So many things made sense.

Master Kallas' proclivity for wandless magic was an immediate giveaway as were her overall Transfigurative abilities. Briefly, she wondered if the witch's immaculate appearance was as pulled together as it seemed, or if Master Kallas was constantly utilzing some sort of self-imposed enchantment.

A glance across the table made her pause. _No, I think that's natural._

But self-transformation was a well-known Uagadou specialty from what Hermione had read, which meant…

"How have I never-? _Honestly!_ Master, how do I not know what your Animagus is?" Hermione asked, suddenly irate with her own lack of knowledge.

A Cheshire cat smile spread itself over her Master's face and the witch sat back, watching Hermione from across the table with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Ah, but we are getting ahead of ourselves, darling," Master Kallas said lifting a long finger and waggling it mischievously. She shifted slightly and moved her glass to one side.

"As interesting and varied as our conversation is, we _did_ come here to eat," she gestured for Hermione to move her glass. "Dinner works similarly to the drinks, though I encourage you to remain a bit more open-ended in your thoughts. The results here are always surprising and always excellent."

Hermione nodded dejectedly at the obvious, but relevant evasion as Master Kallas folded her hands and appeared to close her eyes and meditate.

"Do I _ever_ get to know?"

The question burst from her lips before Hermione could stop it. Master Kallas opened her eyes and fixed her with a cool look. A lifted brow told her everything she needed to know. _Damn. Okay okay…. Not now…_

Sighing, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on dinner… but her mind could only focus on Master Kallas and her mystery Animagus… and then simply on Master Kallas. The way her hair somehow managed to retain a graceful wave before folding into an elegant twist. The curve of her lips. The way her thumb had moved over the wineglass… slowly, with the barest touch…

"You can open your eyes, darling."

The musical voice held a hint of a smile.

 _But I didn't choose…?_

Oh.

Opening her eyes, Hermione fought not to react at looking down and seeing a beautifully plated assortment of Master Kallas' favorite foods. _Actually, you like all of these things too_ , she thought with a smile, looking at her meal.

However a moment later, Hermione's smile widened at glancing across the table and noticing an elegant, if unmistakable slice of flourless chocolate cake resting to one side of her master's meal. A warm flush seemed to pass through her and outward and Hermione felt their bond thrum lightly with pleasure, like a violin string reverberating with a sweet note.

"Kalí órexi," Hermione murmured, keeping her eyes on her plate.

Their bond thrummed again but this time Hermione knew it wasn't from recognizing her favorite dessert.

* * *

Minerva sighed as the familiar tingle of alcohol anesthetized her tastebuds.

Her father would have been disappointed to see her drinking a such a lowbrow single-malt, but she couldn't rationalize breaking out a good bottle on a night like this.

 _Besides, you'll want to save it for after the conference_ , she thought wearily.

Setting down her glass, Minerva sighed again - this time in relief, as flick of her wand quickly divested her of her outermost robes. Another flick lowered the ambient torchlight and she settled upon the chesterfield and allowed her thoughts to wander.

Albus had not yet returned from their disagreement earlier and Minerva found that she appreciated the reprieve. There were enough concerns still looming around Hogwarts without her old friend's nagging, and she didn't have the luxury of unraveling worldwide problems until she was presented with further information. Besides, she had her own hunches… and everything in her intuition suggested that patience was the most prudent option for now.

However, it _did_ always pay to be practical and Minerva had rearranged her schedule and those of her colleagues to the best of her ability, accounting for as many loose ends and potential outcomes as she could. But, as with all intricate webs balancing action and reaction, everything required an investment of time.

 _Time, old girl… is something of which you have precious little.._.

The Scotch burned as it hit the back of her throat, and Minerva stared into the flames of the fire as she considered the strange and winding course her life had taken. Who would have ever imagined that Minerva McGonagall, the most powerful witch of her age, would have remained in Great Britain? Far from the adventures she had been promised as a child, the offers she had been given as a young twenty-something witch... in the ruined path of so many past wars and conflicts.

Everything in her being simply wanted to rest and retreat to her small corner of the Highlands…

Away from the responsibilities and concerns of the school, the haunted eyes of children who had grown up too quickly…

Away from the darkness roiling on the horizon…

Another war? She couldn't. It was too much. She was too old and too tired…

She wanted to run away and simply… _What? Grieve? Live?_

Minerva scoffed at herself bitterly. What selfish thoughts. No, she was bound to her duties and the life she had built for herself. Regrets were not thoughts she entertained and foolish hopes were beyond her patience. Even her own.

As she reached for the glass, Minerva's fingers brushed the parchment bearing the note that had been returned with surprising immediacy. She plucked it deftly and let her eyes skim over the sweeping emerald script.

The conference tomorrow would surely be draining, but the brief meeting she had scheduled in the middle of the day might prove… unexpectedly enlightening.

Tiredly, Minerva took another sip of whiskey, letting the alcohol linger on her palate and dull her senses with its delicious burn.

The coming day would bring what it may, but for the moment, the Headmistress of Hogwarts was content to sit quietly and watch the flames. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

* * *

The villa felt larger and more silent than usual when they had finally returned late. The candles had lit themselves upon Master Kallas' demand, but without the typical warm welcome from either Eleni or Stelios, something felt… off.

They had both banished their more formal outer robes the instant the door had shut and Master Kallas had bid her an early evening, giving her light kiss on both cheeks before retreating to her chambers. Hermione tried not to feel disappointed by her master's departure, instead choosing to shuck off another layer of robes before wandering to the kitchen to sit and review her incredibly busy day.

Dinner had continued with greater ease and while neither of them had mentioned the argument in the alterations shop, Hermione had felt herself reconnecting to Master Kallas as they traded stories from their school years and beyond. She hadn't been surprised to learn that her master had won the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship as a sixth-year at Uagadou nor _Transfiguration Today's_ Most Promising Newcomer Award following her first classifications with Minerva.

Distantly, Hermione had worried about making such strides herself, but quickly reminded herself that awards did not reveal the true measure of a person's knowledge and experience... and that she and Master Kallas had had drastically different experiences while in school.

Voldemort wasn't exactly an exemption she could cite on her résumé.

After dinner Master Kallas had offered to stop at the bookstore, but Hermione had admitted defeat at realizing how exhausted she felt. The walk home had been peaceful enough and the skies had calmed enough to paint the damp streets of the Pharmakeion in shades of rose.

Hermione stood in the kitchen and looked out the large bay windows toward the sea where the last vestiges of the sun were quickly disappearing beneath the water. Similar to the day before, she felt somewhat assaulted by the varied details of all the experiences that had presented themselves before her.

Brewing in the morning felt like an image from a distant dream as did her winding conversations with Yiayia. Connecting with Ana had been an unexpected accomplishment and Hermione was proud of herself for having forged the beginnings of what promised to be an entertaining, if somewhat tenuous friendship. Master Kallas had also given her a great deal to think about regarding Hogwarts and the system that had raised her.

Hermione sighed and scrubbed her face with a hand, everything in her body screaming at her to turn around and go to bed. If only her mind would simply shut itself off.

Outside on the terrace, Hermione noticed the dark shapes of several bowls and piles. With a start, she realized that in their haste, she and Eleni had never finished preparing the vegetables from yesterday… and that since the Elf was away on her master's business, their mess still remained. _Well I can't just leave it..._

Moving quietly, Hermione drifted across cool ceramic tiles in a dreamlike haze until she reached the sliding glass door to the terrace. Upon opening it, she sighed - the light sea breeze quickly entangled itself in her curls and made her shiver with its sharp chill as she stepped out onto the terrace.

A glance over the table indicated that the stasis charm had held and Hermione quickly whispered the counter-charm and began cleaning the area tiredly. Her master's voice echoed in the back of her mind… _"A good potioneer never fails to conclude her practice without properly attending to her materials and space."_

Yes, Master.

Hermione flicked her wand and quickly conjured a bowl full of hot soapy water to soak the knives, feeling a twinge of guilt for having left them uncleaned. Another flick brought a few containers to hold the vegetables before she banished them to the refrigerator.

While she waited for the knives to soak, Hermione patted the top of the table, squinting in the dim light to see if she had missed anything. Feeling nothing but newspaper, she experienced a moment of annoyance with herself as she realized she could fix the situation. _Sometimes you're such a Muggle._

A moment later, a bright light sprang to the tip of her wand and Hermione gave the table another once over before starting to clean up the newspapers. Her mind was suspended somewhere, tiredly attending to the task at hand, but her senses perked up as she caught a small news story at the bottom of one of the pages, slightly surprised to see the English text.

Eleni kept copies of _The Daily Prophet_ for her, but this appeared to be a page from an American newspaper. Hermione frowned at the headline - "Noted Archaeologist Disappears: The Search for Elizabeth Waterhouse."

 _Where have I heard that name?_

Bringing her wand closer, Hermione squinted slightly as she read.

 _Nov. 16, 1999 - A search is underway for noted archaeologist, Elizabeth Waterhouse, who went missing yesterday while surveying a series of underground caves in Guatemala. The 54-year old American scientist has been a prolific voice amongst the circles of Central American archaeologists, having made a number of important contributions to the field in the last ten years. This past spring, Waterhouse was awarded Archaeologist of the Year by_ Current Archaeology _. Guatemalan authorities said in a release that they are hopeful that the intrepid explorer is simply lost within the catacombs of the recently uncovered Mayan burial site, adding that Waterhouse and her team may have discovered the lost tomb of-_

The rest of the article was missing.

Hermione flipped the page in frustration but the rest of the paper seemed to be elsewhere. She quickly scanned through the pages she had picked up and felt a strange sense of foreboding as a different article caught her eye, this one from the French Wizarding newspaper, _Le Devin Quotidien_.

 _"Break-In at the Library of Alexandria"_

 _16 Nov., 1999 - Authorities at the world-renowned Library of Alexandria have indicated that there was an unauthorized shift of the warding around one in the morning Monday night in an obscure branch of the archives related to the documentation of Ancient Artifacts. Archivist Jemima Pendleton spoke with a Quotidien news reporter saying, "Well, nothing was disturbed or taken, I'll tell you that much. Whomever dropped by was clearly in the middle of a large research project... Several of our shelves were well-dusted when we arrived the next morning, and I've never seen such a well-rounded interest in cultures developed between the Middle Bronze and Archaic period." Local aurors have no suspects._

Hermione checked the dates of both articles, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the sea breeze. They both referenced events happening at similar times to the ISOS violations.

Suddenly wanting to be back in the familiar confines of the villa, Hermione quickly scooped up the remaining newspapers and her bowl and hurried indoors. Shutting the sliding glass door with her foot, she immediately felt better upon stepping into the warmer kitchen and the fresh scents of the villa.

Hermione ripped out both articles and quickly spread the remaining newspapers on the counter island, her eyes searching for any other mention of archaeology or ancient civilizations. She wasn't entirely sure what she was searching for - only that her intuition was pulsing from the previous two articles. Something was niggling at the back of her mind and she couldn't put a finger on it.

Unfortunately, the majority of the other pages were written in Greek and she was simply too tired and not well-versed enough in the foreign alphabet to manage any useful translations. Hermione ripped out one from Ekathimerini that had some mention of the Athens Museum and a photo of a few ancient tools, and another from the Wizarding newspaper that blinked and shifted between images taken from what appeared to be a temple somewhere in Asia.

 _You're being entirely paranoid… Strange things are happening all over the world all the time_.

But still, as she cast the remaining newspapers into the recycling and padded back toward her rooms, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that the newspaper articles were connected to something much larger. She hurriedly tucked the pages into one of her books and headed for the bathroom, still shivering lightly despite the ambient warmth.

Flicking on the water, Hermione sighed and tried set aside her morbid thoughts.

 _Ignore your suspicions,_ she told herself while staring in the bathroom mirror. Her curls were limp and hanging about her face in a messy sort of halo. _If_ you _have them, surely others do as well. Maybe think about those theses you have to submit in less than a month!_

Sighing, Hermione turned away and pulled her last set of robes overhead, taking moment to put a few drops of essential oil into the white claw bathtub.

Tomorrow began a new day with a condensed schedule and there were plenty of other things she needed to worry about beyond threats that didn't exist.

* * *

 _A/N:_

lefká krína - white lilies  
Angliká - English  
kalí órexi - equivalent to _bon appétit;_ "enjoy your meal"


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Thank you as always for the lovely reviews! I've had great fun world-building the next few chapters. Hopefully it reads well... :)_

* * *

The wards shifted at precisely five minutes to nine as Filius' ascended the staircase toward the Head's office.

The door opened before him immediately and he strode in, feeling the thin tendrils of anxiety wane upon seeing Minerva standing at the ready. As usual, the graceful witch appeared confident and at ease. He greeted her warmly and had to chuckle a moment later at recognizing the source of her slightly stiff posture.

"I take it the purple is a bit of an adjustment, then?" Filius inquired, peering up into clear green eyes that were glancing over his own robes with a hint of distaste.

"Quite," Minerva replied stiffly and Filius chuckled.

They were both wearing the official set of ICW robes - a rather pleasant shade of deep violet in Filius' opinion, with a rather nice sheen of indigo when one moved. The robes were more structured than either of them tended to wear on the daily, with a reasonably high collar edged in gold brocade, and a series of elegant closures down the front of the chest.

From Minerva's careful expression, it was clear that she detested them silently. _They are more befitting of someone like Albus,_ Filius thought with a smile. However as he gave his friend another once over, he couldn't help but think it was a rather becoming shade for her.

"It brings out your eyes," he commented lightly and smiled inwardly as Minerva's cheeks flushed lightly at the compliment.

"Thank you," she replied softly, before stepping back. Reaching into one pocket Minerva drew out a chipped teacup as Filius fished for his own tin soup can. They moved to the center of the room, leaving a bit of space between them as the initial entrance into the Central Agora would likely demand a few minutes of individual security checks.

"One last, if I may, Filius," Minerva stated, her voice casual in a way that Filius' ears perked up in curiosity. A swift glance at the grandfather clock indicated they had about thirty seconds before the Portkeys took effect.

"I ask that you keep an eye out for a rather robust wizard from Northern Africa. If memory serves, he bears a rather distinctive set of gold tattoos on the backs of his hands. I have a dear friend who speaks of him fondly… I should like to meet him," she finished, plucking an invisible hair from one sleeve.

Filius' quick mind immediately deduced that Minerva was building a memory for them...

... Something so minute that it would be overlooked, but beneath it, a clue… Filius wasn't sure what to make of the odd request, but he nodded his understanding thoughtfully as any friend might, even as a wave of concern washed through him. _What tangled web awaits us now, my good friend?_

"I shall keep an eye out," he replied lightly as Minerva responded with a gracious nod. They had but a few moments. _Fourteen… thirteen… twelve..._

A few rays from the chilly November morning filtered in from the windows behind Minerva and for a moment, the witch was framed in a halo of light, giving her an ethereal, almost otherworldly glow. She was gazing down at the portkey in her hand with a slight tilt of her head, face open and patient, with eyes as clear as polished emeralds… _nine… eight…_

Bizarrely, Filius felt a swell of emotion rise through him as he looked at his friend, who simply waited quietly for the pull of well-crafted magic to draw them away.

She seemed noble... almost _holy_ even, standing there in the symbolic violet robes that drew back many centuries through time as a shade befitting only the highest of sorcerers. _Five… four… three…._

And in the split second before the Portkey whisked them away to the island of Atlantis, Filius would recall many years later, this exact image of Minerva McGonagall: An elegant, statuesque, and _powerful_ witch to be sure… but with an aura of righteousness and benevolence so pure... it surrounded her like a circle of golden light.

* * *

Hermione woke with a groan as her wand buzzed noisily on the windowsill near her bed. Blearily, she waved a hand and managed to knock it to the floor where it continued to roll about, the buzzing growing louder as it echoed beneath her bed.

"Ughhh!" She tumbled out of her covers with a start and held out a hand, her wand snapping into place immediately with a tickle before she canceled the alarm. Placing a palm to her pounding head, Hermione knelt with one arm still thrown over the mattress as she squinted an eye and cast a tempus. _06:03._

"Bloody hell," she muttered under her breath, before rising and padding gingerly to the bathroom. Her body ached from a combination of sore muscles and lack of sleep. _Where's Master Kallas and how do I get one of those magic potions from yesterday?_

Once glance at her reflection told her there was little to be done about the rat's nest serving in place of her hair, so she simply swirled her wand and pulled the tangles into a messy braid. _Whatever._

Tiredly, Hermione managed to complete her morning ablutions rather quickly before deciding that her sluggish mind and body were going to need a better wake-up call before simply settling in at her desk and forming a new schedule for the coming weeks.

Against her better judgment, she summoned a random bathing suit from her wardrobe and quickly pulled it on without looking - frowning in irritation as she snapped off a tag that poked her in the ribs, before grabbing a towel from behind the bathroom door. A moment later, she marched out of her room, still blinking sleep from her eyes.

It barely registered that Master Kallas was already sitting at the informal table, attending to her correspondence as usual with a steaming cup of coffee.

"Kaliméra," Hermione mumbled, yawning as she breezed through the kitchen. Had she been paying attention, she might have caught the widening of light seafoam eyes and the nearly imperceptible sound of her master nearly choking on her coffee.

A moment later, however, Hermione was trotting down to the sea - towel slung over one shoulder and eyes squinting as her bare feet picked over the stone steps leading downward to the azure waves. It was a chilly day with a cool breeze, but the sun was warm on her arms and Hermione found herself perking up slightly as the fresh air greeted her lungs.

The sea would be cold, she knew… but with all the things lying ahead of her, perhaps it would jolt her into work mode.

She paused a moment where the path diverged. Typically, she continued to the right and descended toward the private Kefalas beach where the water was a bit calmer and she could swim with less diverted effort. But today was different.

Hermione scanned the shoreline and considered the many tasks awaiting her back at the villa. She had a new schedule to make for herself… new meetings and lessons to attend with Master Kallas, Stelios, Yiayia, and possibly Ana. Plenty of hours in the library, that was much was certain. Plus, she still wanted to adhere to her training as best she could.

Her thoughts felt muddied and slightly dull, as if she could close her eyes and immediately fall back into the restful darkness of sleep regardless of where she was at the moment. But even in her exhaustion, Hermione drew a deep breath and changed her course.

 _Today_ required a wake-up call.

Picking her way over the rocks, Hermione made her way to the left where the rocks began to rise and jut outward to create a natural point over deeper waters. The drop at the end wasn't _terribly_ high - about six or seven meters, but Hermione had only tried it once during her whole time on Naxos, and that had been after Eleni's cajoling.

Strong, tanned feet and hands began working to help her ascend toward the point over roughened sea rocks. The action brought forth a few twinges along the muscles of her back and through her legs, reminding her that the last few days were only the beginning. _There's probably a lot more where that came from..._

The rocks evened out slightly and Hermione brought herself up to standing - arms held out like a acrobat as she slowly made her way forward and toward the edge of the small cliff. She felt a small bubble of anticipation work its way through her body even as her eyes carefully scanned the bright cerulean waters...

A moment later, her toes reached the edge of the rock...

And without an ounce of hesitation, Hermione dropped her towel and jumped - feeling a rush of wild laughter overtake her even as the cold waters sprang upwards her from below.

* * *

Minerva's robes skirted around her legs a manner she found irritating and constricting.

She and Filius were walking down a stretch of bright white marble that had been polished into such a brilliant gloss, Minerva felt she needed a Shield Charm to block its sharp reflection. Their aide walked slightly before them - a stern little witch named Emmeline who had greeted them after the security checks and given them their itinerary ledgers and a small informational map of the city.

They had arrived to the Central Agora of Aetherion along with a host of others in violet robes. They had each been petrified and silenced immediately upon appearing - each one of them suspended above the ground by a bright column of magic as Security Wizards in teams of three quickly attended to each individual and registered their entry into Atlantis. Their wands had been taken, imprinted, and recorded; robes scanned and patted down; voices measured, and health charts recorded...

Shortly thereafter, she and Filius had each been issued a series of small pins that were now affixed to their respective collars - the official gold emblem of the ICW General Assembly, a flag from the United Kingdom to indicate their country of affiliation, and the Hogwarts emblem as a nod to their seats on the Educational Council.

Emmeline had quickly appeared soon-after, introducing herself with a quick bow, and then leading them off - speaking in clipped tones that indicated she had delivered similar welcomes many times before.

"- should you need medical attention, please tell the map _clearly_ and it will direct you to the Aesclepion on the south side of the Agora along Auster." Minerva half-listened as Emmeline continued narrating the many rules and important points of the convocation.

The witch's golden robes glistened in the bright light which filtered in from behind puffy white clouds, and Minerva took a deep inhale of island air, appreciating the almost-familiar scents of fresh flowers and pine.

She could just make out the peaks of Helios and Eleuthera in the distance as they passed beneath the tall pillars of the stoa surrounding the Agora.

Absently, Minerva realized just how much she had missed the Mediterranean ambiance.

"- Assembly members are _not permitted_ to journey to the north of the island during this conference. Should you wish to recess off-island during the break, please ensure that you take your Portkey with you and it will return you promptly to the north side of the Agora- "

Filius shot her a subtle look and Minerva responded with the barest of smiles.

Despite his affable nature, Filius was not one for useless prattling. Emmeline vaguely reminded Minerva of someone, though she couldn't put a finger on whom. The young witch was slightly bossy and she spoke with a subtle accent, perhaps from Spain or Italy. Her dark hair was pulled into a severe bun rivaling Minerva's and it gleamed to perfection as she led them toward the Acropolis at a brisk walk.

The first convocation was to be held within the General Assembly Hall at ten, giving them a good amount of time to peruse the thick ledger that held the formal schedule, addendums, and relevant reports. Minerva had immediately shrunk the ledger and tucked it into her pocket, giving her ease to gaze about and observe the city around her.

The Corinthian columns they were walking through were nearly transparent at the bottom, giving one the ability to look through the stone and appreciate the beauty of the Agora whose clean walkway was lined by lush grasses and fragrant blooms. The open walkway was full of people in gold robes, clearly indicating their affiliation to the ICW's general Secretariat. Here and there a street vendor could be seen selling fresh food or flowers.

Across the way, the Office of Underwater Peculiarities appeared to have been recently renovated. The black stone building was tilted on its side by a forty-five degree angle, supported by a large iridescent sculpture of a wave that twinkled and undulated in the light. Minerva saw people descending from the tilted steps at an equally bizarre angle and quickly materializing into the Agora with no issue. She raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Clever," Minerva heard Filius mutter approvingly as he followed her gaze. Emmeline shot them a reproachful look and they hurried to follow as she drew them out from beneath the covered walkway and toward a diagonal path that began leading them through a series of ascending gardens toward Acropolis.

They passed rolling berms covered in flowered bushes and a few carefully pruned olive trees and as Emmeline's robes whipped around a corner, Minerva looked upward… and kept looking upward...

"Merlin's beard," Filius breathed. Silently, Minerva had to agree with the smaller wizard's expression of awe, forgetting momentarily that it had been many years since her friend had set foot upon the island.

"Since its renovation a decade ago, Acropolis of Aetherion had become a noted achievement amongst architectural circles across the globe. As you can see, the new Architect elected to infuse a bit of whimsy into the design. The renovations took two years to complete."

Minerva suppressed a smile at glancing to one side and seeing Filius mutter varied spells and charms to himself as he surveyed the structure with a careful squint, likely attempting to deduce the warding and the various enchantments utilized to maintain the impressive sight.

As they approached the end of the path, the large hill they had been ascending opened into a broad slate-gray plaza whose stones described the Golden Ratio. The spaces in between the stones pulsed like a heartbeat - sending bolts of gentle light across the plaza floor a pleasant visual display.

The Acropolis itself was entirely suspended in the air… floating ten meters above the plaza, and the entire structure drifted lightly, as though it ebbed and flowed with an invisible tide. The temple itself appeared as just that - a large Greek temple, with a strange sort of translucency to it that made its outlines appear clear, if somewhat opalescent… while the substance of the structure itself allowed one to view the surrounding sky and landscape with ease.

The surreal sight always gave Minerva a pleasant feeling, as though she were looking an entire building enchanted to be a cousin of Hogwart's Great Hall ceiling.

They passed into the shadow of the Acropolis, she looked up to see the underside of the temple that was meant to appear like living blueprint. The entire base was made of semi-transparent dark blue glass; glowing footsteps could be seen wherever people walked above them, and she could just make out borders of walls, doors, stairs.

"Who was the Architect?" Filius asked curiously as they began making their way across the plaza.

"The Architect requested to remain anonymous," Emmeline replied crisply, appearing to move them toward a specific spot upon the Golden Ratio.

As they walked, Minerva appreciated the Architect's subtle play on light. Between the dark surface upon which they walked, the shadow of the Acropolis itself, and the darker ceiling that the temple's floor provided, the surrounding landscape in their visual field appeared clear and bright in contrast... like one large panoramic photo.

Looking to the right, the Halls of Justice and Defense seemed like postcard photos from Ancient Greece, while to their left, Minerva could see the surreal stoa surrounding the Agora, beyond it the telltale outline of the noble Educational Office, and the five mountains to the north, looking especially clear on the bright morning.

"In a moment we shall cross up," Emmeline called over one shoulder. They took a few more steps before vanishing from the plaza with the pleasant sensation of being immersed in cool liquid, reappearing in another open-air walkway beneath tall pillars - this one brightly lit in tasteful shades of ivory and gold.

Minerva glanced to her right and looked out over the broad expanse of water that lay at the bottom of stone steps. The smooth liquid surrounded the temple on all sides before dropping away into nothingness. She looked beyond the infinity pool's edge and out toward the linear landscape below.

The Agora was just visible beyond the water, while Minerva's eyes traced the western avenue of Favonius as it extended long toward the coast before quirking at an angle and cutting directly across the island's folded landscape toward the dark silhouette of Mount Kyryptos. The northwest avenue of Corus made a similar path directly toward craggy Astrae, and perhaps if she squinted Minerva could barely discern the breathy shimmer of Hecate's Falls.

"This is the corridor outside of the General Assembly Hall. Any of the gold doors to your left will take you into the chambers. Please listen to your pins once inside and they will instruct you where to sit. It has been a pleasure serving you, I hope you enjoy your stay on Atlantis." Emmeline rattled off the information with rehearsed speed before quickly spinning on a heel, descending the outer stairs and vanishing into the water.

Filius merely raised an eyebrow at the witch's abrupt departure while Minerva sighed her relief.

"Curious method... most curious," Filius muttered to himself as he watched another two wizards in gold robes approach the infinity pool and swiftly disappear.

Minerva sniffed at the unique means of transportation. The tell of magic had long seemed familiar to her but she still couldn't place the unique enchantment's creator. _A pleasant mystery for another day..._

She gestured toward the aforementioned doors, mind already outlining a list of questions and points she wanted to remember during the Assembly.

"Shall we?" Minerva offered politely. Filius bowed gallantly and indicated that she should go first. They strode toward the golden doors and joined in the growing throng of violet-robed witches and wizards, more of whom were popping into the corridor with harried aides in gold robes.

Already they could hear the low murmur of many voices from within and Minerva steeled herself for what promised to be a _very_ long and _very_ trying morning.


	19. Chapter 19

Dia sat quietly at the kitchen table, heart pounding as she worked to reign in the hot flush that had swept through her body following her tired apprentice's surprising entrance. _By the gods, that witch…_

Moreover, Hermione hadn't seemed to realize the nature of yet another revealing swimsuit - this one black with an artful wrap that revealed an ample amount of tanned chest and back. Smoothing her immaculate hair, Dia briefly considered how the woman's complete obliviousness had made her all the more enticing...

... before swiftly quashing the thought.

Sighing, she rose and glided over to the refrigerator feeling her tired muscles protest the early hour. Guiltily, Dia knew that her apprentices' half-asleep greeting was a clear indication that the witch was running on close to empty. The last two days had been challenging for the both of them, but Dia knew that the coming weeks would only increase the pressure. She would have to keep a close eye on her charge.

Dia swiftly doled out a portion of yogurt and fruit for herself before returning to the table with a sigh, making a mental note to use up all the vegetables that seemed to have appeared overnight.

Returning to her correspondence, she tried to focus on a formal document from the Mediterranean trade commission, but quickly set it aside upon spying a letter with a familiar scrawl. Opening it with a smile, she read quickly.

 _Aunt,_

 _To be honest, I thought my sister was bluffing when she first proposed to invite you and your new apprentice over for dinner this weekend, but Yiayia has assured me that your uncharacteristic overture is sincere… I must say, I've been caught by surprise, but naturally would love to make the acquaintance of such a promising new student. (So long as she hasn't bewitched you entirely, eh? The children have yet to see you unhinged!)_

 _All joking aside, dear aunt, Melina and I would be happy to invite you both… perhaps Sunday?_

 _Either lunch or dinner would be agreeable for us… and to be honest, we'd appreciate a reprieve from the children. I do warn you that Ioannis will attempt to monopolize your time. He's been badgering us for a month attempting to convince us that apprenticing beneath you should take precedence over preparations for school. We haven't seen much of Kyveli over the summer, though the Elves indicate she's working her way up to something good. Perhaps you can extract it from her before something else explodes in the attic._

 _We look forward to your response and in the meantime I'll prepare the track. I assume you'll want a bit of spectacle?_

 _All my love, dearest Dia. We've missed your presence._

 _Your favorite nephew,_  
 _Konstantinos_

Dia quickly summoned Hermes as she penned a reply, assuring her nephew that the coming Sunday would serve just fine and that he could expect the both of them for lunch. She left it implied that Hermione's instruction would begin that same afternoon, along with a subtle indication that she preferred the sessions to remain both private and discreet.

Rolling the parchment and tucking the letter into Hermes' carrier, Dia gave the beautiful black owl a few of blueberries and thorough feather stroking before sending him on his way.

As soon as the owl had carefully exited the window flap, she sat back and took another sip of coffee while trying to ignore the tremulous bundle of nerves that had anchored itself to the pit of her stomach.

She'd woken early this morning with a rush of anticipation and been unable fall back asleep. A short flow of yoga had helped in stemming the tide of anxiety that grated upon her composure, but as the morning continued to unfold, Dia found herself increasingly agitated and unable to concentrate.

Her mind alternated in floating back and forth between events that had occurred twenty years ago and the events of the past several days. Dark thoughts emerged as did a number of grave questions. _Nothing will answer itself this morning, Diamantina_ , she thought with deep sigh. _Though perhaps you will receive the information you need this afternoon…_

Abruptly banishing her barely-touched breakfast and the neat piles of letters, Dia stood and quickly made a choice. She wrote a short note to Hermione explaining her absence and left it on the table before turning on a heel and returning to her chambers with purpose.

It had been far too long since she had meditated in earnest.

* * *

Filius' head ached as the din in the Assembly Hall grew less and less civil. A glance to his right saw his colleague's thoughts hidden behind an impenetrable mask as Minerva watched the unfolding debate with rigid attentiveness. From the tightness in her lips he surmised that she was both incredibly angry and perhaps a bit apprehensive. _It is her Society after all..._

A loud crash echoed through the ovular hall as two large brass gongs on the Assembly Floor were rung by four attachés in gold robes. A few moment later, the voices began to subside and the noise level trickled back down to a few disgruntled mumbles.

"Order! Order! That is enough!"

Supreme Mugwump, Babajide Akingbade possessed a loud, clear voice, but even with a Sonorous, he had been unable to quell the tide of angry debates. Thus far the convocation had unfolded without requiring much discussion, but as they drew towards the end of the first session, a debate had broken out regarding the ICW's request to convene a Quorum of the Transfiguration Society.

To Filius' dismay (and likely Minerva's), the ISOS violations had predictably incited a wave of panic across the Assembly, particularly after preliminary reports divulged very little surrounding the attacks themselves. The ICW was working in conjunction with affected countries to carry out five separate investigations, but beyond that, there was little for the General Assembly to do but wait for the formal reports, lift the general Wizarding populace to a Yellow Alert, and see to the budget regarding relief measures.

However, as soon as the dangling carrot of the Quorum had been presented, several had jumped at the opportunity for added information and Filius had been incensed by the large number of delegates demanding that the event be held publicly within the General Assembly.

The implications were astounding and far-reaching, not to mention idiotic in his opinion. To _out_ the highest members of an entire discipline? It was close to sacrilege.

Holding back a sigh, Filius struggled not to shift in annoyance as yet another violet robed figure stood to have their say.

"The Assembly recognizes Madam Nyzette Castledine of the United States," Akingbade sat smoothly as across the Hall, a tall dark-skinned woman rose, already shaking her head as she looked across the grand space in disdain.

Filius sat forward slightly at recognizing the witch, eager to hear the opinion of their international colleague, the Headmistress of Ilvermorny.

"Honored members of the General Assembly, I beseech you - _please_ , do not engage in these foolish notions of self-serving acquiescence. At the risk of sounding quaint, I believe we should _all_ consider the saying, 'better safe than sorry'. Recent Dark events amongst our brethren in Europe should only serve to remind us all that _inaction_ is the first step on the path toward destruction."

Madam Castledine turned to ensure her message carried across the chambers, her clear voice issuing challenge as she continued.

"I remind you that you seek to threaten the lives of some of the highest Masters in the discipline of Transfiguration simply because it will assuage our immediate concerns. You forget that the majority of these people are scholars and researchers who do not necessarily have equal capabilities in the realm of dueling and defense. I find it a _deplorable notion_ that our governing body seeks to throw these reputable people under the broom for the sake of expediency and selfish information-gathering."

Madam Castledine sat in a flourish of violet as Filius nodded in approval. He heard a number of other people call out in agreement. Minerva sat stoically, typically appearing unmoved one way or another.

A moment later, a stout wizard with a flyaway patch of blond hair stood, flourishing a hand lightly as Akingbade made the introduction.

"The Assembly recognizes Monsieur Pridbjørn Bang of Denmark."

Filius attempted not to react when the high nasally voice assaulted his ears.

"I am astounded that certain members of the Assembly continue to jump toward such exaggerated and _fantastical_ declamations of assault and world disorder. Have we not concluded from reports that there has been little to tie the ISOS violations together beyond rough estimates of time and unfinished assessments? Will we continue to engage in this charade of… _supposed_ mass hysteria? This is a waste of our time and resources." The pompous man slammed a fist onto his desk.

"Demand the Quorum convene for the sake of transparency and it shall reveal without a trace of doubt that these are separate events that are undeserving of our energy and resources. It is the most expedient and most prudent option under the circumstances. I will hear no more blasphemy concerning apocalyptic predictions that have _no basis in fact!_ "

Filius shook his head and sniffed even as a number of angry voices rose to agree with the Danish wizards' remarks, surprised a moment later when Minerva shifted and rose swiftly before the other wizard even finished sitting.

"The Assembly recognizes Madam Minerva McGonagall of Great Britain." Akingbade peered at his colleague over gold spectacles even as she returned the gaze coolly through hers. Unlike the previous two speakers, Filius watched with narrowed eyes as Minerva glanced around the chambers and waited for the Hall to acknowledge her presence before speaking.

"I agree with Monsieur Bang in his assessment that our efforts to discern the nature of the ISOS violations remain incomplete. As such, it is difficult to make a prudent threat assessment where none can currently exist," she nodded politely to the Danish wizard who acknowledged her with a stiff nod of his head.

She continued in a softer voice, "However, it disturbs me greatly at how quickly the Assembly wishes to disregard centuries of trust regarding the intensely intimate and private nature of the Mastery Societies. I make no secret that it is _my_ Society we hold in question at the moment, _however_ …" Minerva gazed across the Hall coldly as her eyes met several eyes of the dissenting party.

"I should ask that you consider the safety and privacy of those who have devoted their lives toward the furtherment of Magic. The very Acropolis in which we now sit is a testament to my discipline along with several others, as is Aetherion… _as is Atlantis itself!_ "

Minerva paused and lifted her chin as a number of people shifted uncomfortably.

"Consider how quickly we seek to abandon our allegiance to the Societies that continue to promote peace and security amongst our World. For it is _all_ the Societies we currently threaten with public exposure and I know, as I'm sure many of you would agree, that they will stand united against the Assembly should we allow _one_ to fall," her voice grew dangerously quiet.

A moment later Minerva glanced down at her ledger and removed her spectacles, speaking quickly and with the easy authority of one who was familiar with making decisions.

"As such, I recommend that the Quorum remain a closed-Society event barring the presence of the Council of Security and Defense, as there is a reason we have elected those who are capable and qualified of assessing the magnitude of any threat. The Assembly shall defer to the report made by the Security Council and we may reconvene and reassess the global situation following their complete investigation."

Minerva finished and sat smoothly, earning a subtle nod from Madam Castledine and a smattering of applause from across the hall. Filius smirked inwardly as Monsieur Bang huffed and muttered to a witch from Switzerland.

"I move to call!" A voice rang out from the back.

"Seconded!" Another voice rang out quickly before the motion could be stopped. A wave of protest arose in the Hall and Akingbade gestured toward his attachés who rang the gongs again, bringing another flash of pain to Filius' temples with the sharp sound.

 _Finally,_ he thought, quickly sending Minerva a small nod of acknowledgment. She inclined her head tiredly in reply and for a brief moment, Filius' thoughts sparked with concern. His friend looked too tired.

A moment later however, Minerva's focus snapped to the far right to the thin wizard who had made the call.

"Then we shall call a vote. What is the motion?" Akingbade peered over his gold-rimmed glasses at the bald man from Turkmenistan.

"I move to support Madam McGonagall's recommendation. The Transfiguration Quorum shall be convened at the behest of the General Assembly, open to members of the official Society and the twelve representatives of the Confederation's Council of Security and Defense." The wizard bowed respectfully before sitting, even as a number of grumbles passed through the open chambers.

Akingbade glanced at the Assembly Clerk who nodded her confirmation.

"Very well, it is so moved. Please attend to your desks. The majority vote will speak for the Assembly. You have two minutes."

A white sphere bearing his name appeared on the desk before him even as a number of privacy spells sprang into place around him. Filius quickly tapped the small sphere with his wand, changing it to gold before banishing it away.

Abruptly the privacy spells fell away around him and Filius looked to the front of the Hall where the votes began trickling in. The Supreme Mugwump sat inside a floating circular enclave along with a number of clerks, attachés, translators, and security wizards in gold robes. Behind them on either side lay the Voice of the Assembly - two swirling arrangements of iridescent glass that lined the back wall, trapping the votes and allowing them to trickle down into two modern-looking hourglasses that tallied the responses.

The gold spheres signifying "Aye" trickled down the shining loops, slides, swirls, and levers on the right side, while on the left, a number of silver spheres did the same, signifying "Nay."

Filius watched in anticipation as the spheres continued to trickle in, still too even to tell whether or not the Assembly was in agreement.

He hazarded a glance at Minerva saw that she had already completed her vote and was busy writing in her ledger, intently focused on her task and completely ignoring the process unfolding at the front of the room. The side conversations began growing again as more votes were cast and Filius' eyes flicked up to the floating tempus above the Mugwump's seat that was counting down the seconds.

Minerva's option was a compromise, he knew, but anything was better than a mass revelation of a full Quorum and an entire society… even if there was an international threat on the horizon. Secrecy and oral tradition had preserved the Societies for centuries. Filius felt a swell of anger for the politicians and diplomats who failed to validate those facts as assets.

A soft chime echoed throughout the hall, effectively grinding his thoughts to a halt for the moment. To his right, Minerva continued writing diligently, unperturbed.

"Time. The vote is in," Akingbade's rich tones resounded as he turned to accept the official parchment from the Voice of the Assembly. The Hall grew quiet even as the wizard's Sonorous picked up the subtle flicks of the opening of the parchment containing the results.

"The Aye's have it," Akingbade said after a moment as a large cheer went up across the Hall. Filius sighed in relief.

"In a majority vote of 187 to 163, the motion to convene a Quorum of the Transfiguration Society at the behest of the Assembly, attended only by official Society members and the presence of the twelve members of the Confederation's Council for Security and Defense is passed."

"Such a narrow margin," Filius murmured as he looked out across the room with veiled dismay. Violet robes were shifting and twisting everywhere as the entire floor reacted to the news. A good number of faces were visibly upset and he even saw a few scathing looks shot in their general direction. He heard Minerva sigh softly.

"Indeed. We must not forget this moment," she replied gravely.

* * *

Minerva waited for Filius to step through the Trans-Apparative Gateway before declaring her own destination to the attendant. Perhaps she was being paranoid or foolish, but somehow this was a meeting that she wanted to remain private.

Her materials safely lodged in deep violet pockets, Minerva stepped through the Gateway and found herself standing along a shadowed path while a burst of white bougainvillea overflowed from an archway overhead.

Looking around carefully, Minerva decided against changing her official robes completely, instead transfiguring the horrid color to a deep forest green and a more palatable blend of silk. Another glance around told her that she was indeed alone and Minerva plucked a piece of parchment from her pocket, quickly reading and memorizing the address.

 _39 Via Lo Funno, Anacapri, Naples_

A moment later, the weathered brick of the Sorrento alleyway disappeared, echoing lightly as she Disapparated to her actual destination.

A few minutes later, Minerva found herself walking through a quaint Italian village. The Isle of Capri had been an unusual choice in her opinion, but she found herself re-evaluating as the sunshine soaked through her robes and the beautiful scenery rested peacefully upon her eyes.

Despite the slight chill to the air, the island seemed to be in full blossom. Minerva relished in the varied textures of the coast below - the azure waves meeting the white shore, craggy rocks and scrubby olive trees and thin shadows of cypress. Scotland was quickly approaching winter and the brief reminder of spring felt like a balm to her weary heart.

Minerva had briefly been apprehensive when she soon realized that the location she had arrived to was clearly a Muggle town. However, despite what was beautiful weather in her opinion, the majority of locals appeared to be holed up inside. She passed by an older couple wrapped in scarves and cloaks and they had simply smiled at her before hurrying into a small restaurant with haste.

As soon as she had arrived, another glance at the parchment had revealed a second address and Minerva had immediately set off, at once feeling refreshed... and a bit apprehensive.

She slowed down as she reached what appeared to be a dead end before noticing an elegant black wrought iron gate half hidden behind a wall of overflowing grapevines to her right. The small entrance had faded gold lettering, but Minerva managed to identify it with the address she needed.

 _17 Via Soraveta_

Pressing the gate open tentatively, Minerva walked down a narrow alleyway that was pleasantly sheltered by an archway of flowering vines she didn't recognize. The narrow cobblestones gave way before her and she experienced a moment of confusion later as she appeared to be approaching a Muggle house. _Where are you leading me, little pony?_

Before she could knock, the door swung open and a small Italian man wearing a white apron opened his arms wide in welcome, apparently delighted by her arrival.

"Benvenuta, Minerva! Benvenuta!" He laughed wholeheartedly at seeing her surprised expression, quickly ushering her inside with, "Entra, entra! Non abbiate paura! La tua amica - lei ti aspetta!"

"Grazie, Signore…" she managed, before quickly apologizing for her broken Italian. Briefly her mind worked to recall the language that she had used to manage with decent fluency. _This is unexpected to say the least..._

"Non c'è problema, Signora! Io sono Giannino. Seguimi, per favore!"

The man called Giannino led her through a lovely house that appeared to offer extra seating in a few rooms, similar to a restaurant. That made her feel slightly more reassured that she wasn't completely being led astray, and a moment later Minerva emerged to a wide open terrace that looked down toward the coastline below.

As she turned to thank the man, Minerva froze as her attention fell on the person sitting at a table off to the right.

Her breath caught and she felt hear heartbeat pounding in her ears...

The petite figure in ivory robes rose and offered a brilliant smile, the sun filtering through the pergola from above, dappling dark curls in a soft glow. Giannino disappeared quickly and Minerva barely glanced at the man's departure, eyes still drinking in the lovely vision before her.

A moment later, the witch extended a delicate hand and Minerva grasped it assuredly, slowly pulling them together even as her eyes continued to devour the woman's lithe figure, her long neck and porcelain features... and finally the light seafoam eyes that smiled up into hers before they embraced in earnest.

Unexpectedly, the familiar action opened an old ache in her chest and Minerva pressed a light kiss against the perfect curls.

"Diamantina Kallas, it has been _far_ too long," she whispered softly.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _It's been awhile since I've spoken Italian, but I'll check these later._

 _Benvenuta - welcome_  
 _Entra - Come in_  
 _Non abbiate paura - Don't be afraid_  
 _La tua amica, lei ti aspetta - Your friend, she is waiting for you._  
 _Non c'è problema, Signora - Not a problem, ma'am_  
 _Io sono Giannino - I'm Giannino_  
 _Seguimi - Follow me_


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: Wow, I can't believe we're up to chapter 20! Whew! And still so much more... Thanks for all your supportive comments! I love hearing from you :)_

* * *

The terrace upon which they were sitting looked down over the sea.

Minerva knew Diamantina held a deep love for open water, though she couldn't imagine how the witch had managed to stumble upon such a wayward Muggle establishment as this. The quaint restaurant née private home was incredibly lovely and Minerva appreciated the ambiance immediately. Giannino had quickly returned, bearing two wine glasses and a lovely bottle of Capri Bianco before leaving them to their conversation.

For a moment, Minerva had considered declining the wine, but the thought of the second convocation loomed and throwing caution to the wind she had happily toasted to old friends as the waves crashed upon the rocks below in soothing rhythm.

They sat, watching each other comfortably for a few moments as each witch drank in the familiar image of her companion... noting the small tells of age, shifts in energy and presence... and beneath it all, the both of them still appreciating her counterpart's beauty, though neither said a word.

As Minerva sipped her wine lazily, Diamantina arched a brow.

"I suppose considering the age we live in, I should have thought to have asked for confirmation of your identity," she remarked lightly, causing Minerva to chuckle wryly.

"I suppose. Were my first moments too uncharacteristically dramatic?"

Diamantina's eyes crinkled as she smiled into her wine. In the noon light, she seemed luminous.

"Unexpectedly fervent," Diamantina corrected after a moment, causing Minerva to chuckle again. The witch set her glass on the table and let her thumbs trace the stem lightly.

"May I infer from the alterations to your robes that convocation could be going better?" _The witch misses nothing._

"And here I thought I was being subtle," Minerva drawled, raising an eyebrow and taking a large sip of wine while taking a moment to avoid the question. She glanced down at her robes critically.

"Aside from the usual pedantic squabbling, it goes as expected," she replied diplomatically. At that, Diamantina crossed ankles demurely and leaned back in her chair, one elbow propping itself up as her finger wound itself around a loose curl.

"That bad, mmm?"

Minerva winced. _For Merlin's sake, you were bonded! Of course she can still read you like a book…_

"I suppose you are curious about the upcoming meeting," she replied, letting her eyes drift past Diamantina toward periwinkle flowers climbing up old brick toward the terraced roof behind her. The witch had never been one to shy from difficult business. And it seemed that they both had agendas within agendas.

As usual.

"The letter was surprising, that much was certain. However I received a related notice from the Potions Society shortly thereafter... and I confide that the brewers are troubled. The summons for Transfiguration hangs heavy against the plea we received for our ' _expert assistance'_ in responsive measures. It seems there are many who believe the ICW overstep their authority," Diamantina replied, still observing Minerva with her light gaze.

 _So at least Potions and Charms have been appraised of the precedent that the ICW wishes to set against Societies… Good._

"Fortunately, it seems that we will be met with only a few extra eyes," Minerva replied, vaguely aware that they were in an unsecured space, no matter how far off the beaten path.

"Giannino and Elena's restaurant is Secret-Kept," Diamantina stated gently as shock flooded through Minerva at how easily the other witch still read her thoughts. It was, and always had been… disconcerting.

Diamantina sighed and sat forward, one soft hand coming to rest atop Minerva's.

"Forgive me. I have forgotten how my skills used to upset you. I meant no disrespect," she said gently. Shaking her head, Minerva smiled and clasped the hand.

"It is nothing, my dear… merely the self-conscious musings of an old witch well accustomed to remaining shrouded in mystery to those around her," she replied tiredly. _Oh, if only there were more to me than that._

"You are not old. And do not worry. You are still shrouded in mystery, Athena," Diamantina said warmly, surprising Minerva with the familiar nickname. She felt a genuine smile spread itself over her features slowly causing Diamantina to return it with a brilliant one of her own. Minerva felt her breath catch.

Fortunately, Giannino took that moment to reappear and Diamantina rose and hugged him enthusiastically, quickly spouting off a long string of Italian that appeared to be both an order and an explanation of their relationship. Giannino responded with a few exaggerated comments, including a brief question about Minerva that she couldn't quite understand but whatever it was made Diamantina blush lightly as the old Italian man laughed his way indoors.

Her friend slid back into place, giving Mineva a shy smile that prompted her into asking the question she had nearly forgotten.

"Speaking of mysteries, where are we, little pony?" Diamantina's eyes widened briefly but she merely quirked her lips lightly as she reached for her wine. Mentally, Minerva kicked herself. _Bloody hell_. She hadn't meant to let that endearment slip.

"A question for another time, darling," Diamantina replied evenly, choosing to sip delicately and look out over the sea calmly. Minerva lifted an eyebrow but accepted the evasion gracefully. She waved her wand surreptitiously beneath the table and cast a _Muffliato_ around them as well as a Disillusionment charm over the terrace just in case.

Diamantina looked at her curiously, perceptive enough to have felt the light flush of magic.

"Forgive me for the added measures. I don't doubt your discretion, but we cannot be too careful," Minerva explained, setting her glass aside and sitting forward. She frowned down at the weathered woodgrain in front of her as she collected her thoughts.

"The Assembly has just voted to close the impending Quorum to members of Society and twelve members of the Council for Security and Defense," she began. "However the vote was a close margin. The majority only won by eight votes."

Diamantina inhaled sharply in reply.

"Although this considerably lessens our visibility, it remains that the Assembly will also convene concurrently to the Quorum. As of yet, we have not been appraised of the security measures to ensure separacy."

"You are to be seated on the Quorum," Diamantina stated. Minerva nodded, not bothering to question how she had learned that bit of information.

"Stelios," came the answer a moment later. Minerva inclined her head and waited as Diamantina sat back, her features pensive.

It was clear that the other witch saw the glaringly obvious flaws in the ICW's plan as did she, but she felt her heart drop a moment later when Diamantina responded.

"Unfortunately, we both know that the perpetrator will not be in attendance at the Quorum as he or she is not a formal member of the Society," Diamantina said slowly, leaning forward and pinning Minerva with a serious gaze. _Then it is as I feared._

Before she could comment, Diamantina looked away and continued.

"I have my suspicions as I am sure you have yours, Athena. Stelios and Eleni are away at the moment and there... have been whispers amongst the elder members of the Hellenic Council. Dark whispers of an ancient abomination…" she trailed off, her dark brows furrowing as one hand crossed across her chest and the other came to rest at her lips. "I cannot imagine how such whispers reached ears beyond our community…"

Something in the witch's posture seemed off and Minerva's eyes narrowed.

"Diamantina… what are you planning?" Minerva asked, searching the beautiful features for an answer even as they continued to gaze over the coast. Abruptly, the familiar gaze clouded and something passed across her face that Minerva couldn't recognize.

"The same as you, Athena. A swift end to these concerns," Diamantina responded flatly. Minerva narrowed her eyes.

"Diamantina Kallas, this web reaches far beyond you or I. If you have suspicions, then I implore you to make them known," she said firmly. At that Diamantina recrossed her legs, fixing Minerva with a sad smile.

"Athena, all I have are whispers and ghosts. Nothing that I will share until they are confirmed in fact, but if and when they are, I swear to you that I will share them, _nah?_ " The Greek "yes" at the end made Minerva smile despite the ire she had felt a just moment before. As always, Diamantina was incredibly cryptic and stubborn. _Wonder where she learned that?_

"May I receive a similar assurance?" the witch asked after a beat. Minerva curled her fingers around the stem of her wineglass, drawing it upward and twirling it absently, watching as the light liquid refracted the sunshine into small prisms. _The Order will need all the help it can get..._

"You understand that my network and methods have remained as they were twenty years ago," she replied softly. Diamantina's expression remained unchanged, but Minerva felt a distinctive cooling of the energy at their table.

"I shall consider it," Diamantina replied after a long moment. Minerva inclined her head with a nod.

"That is all I ask, Diamantina," she said. A moment later, the witch graced her with a soft smile, gazing at her with affection in a manner that suddenly threw Minerva back twenty years… when they had sat together in her quarters and talked for hours about everything under the sun until the embers had nearly gone cold.

"Things were much easier back then, weren't they?" Diamantina remarked gently.

"Until they weren't," Minerva stated with a sniff, sipping her wine and appreciating the crisp flavor as it rolled across her tongue. She felt Diamantina's gaze softly tracing her features.

They lapsed into comfortable silence, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine as it soaked through their robes. Minerva watched the fishing boats in the small bay far below. They looked like little toys floating upon a patch of blue, almost too perfect to be real.

Shortly thereafter, Giannino returned bearing a platter of mouthwatering dishes, accompanied by a small Italian woman who appeared to be his wife. They both had dark, tanned skin, and the same open, twinkling faces and Minerva found herself rising to hug both of them even as Diamantina chattered away with the woman called Elena.

The couple presented their lunch with a flourish and Minerva couldn't help be but curious at how the Muggle couple fawned over Diamantina as if she were their long-lost daughter home for a visit. Elena kissed Minerva's cheeks before muttering something quickly in Italian and bidding them a good meal. At Minerva's questioning glance, Diamantina lips dipped into a curve and she explained that the woman had given her an old Italian blessing wishing her a successful relationship.

Minerva's face must have registered her confusion because then Diamantina laughed - a sweet musical sound that trickled lightly across the table making her blush.

Fortunately, a moment later the witch was quickly spooning different dishes onto Minerva's plate along with fast explanations of the different foods in the one of her more stereotypically Greek mannerisms that Minerva had always found rather endearing.

She watched as Diamantina prepared her a plate, expression changing animatedly as she spoke and gestured, enjoying the openness infusing the typically serene and unreadable features. Minerva had forgotten how her former apprentice had used to prepare their meals, even going as far as marching down to the Hogwarts kitchens and assisting the Elves with the more delicate recipes from both of their respective cultures.

"Well, darling? Are you going to sit and appreciate my beauty all day or eat the amazing meal before you?"

Minerva's eyebrow rose at the swift burst of sass from the witch across from her, who sat with a confident lift of her chin and flash of mischief igniting her seafoam gaze.

Very slowly and deliberately, Minerva wound a long noodle around her fork before drawing it to her lips and placing it on her tongue with exaggerated care. Diamantina's eyes never wavered from her mouth...

... And a moment later they both dissolved into laughter as the noodle unexpectedly made a huge slurp.

Toasting again to rekindled friendship, Minerva allowed herself to genuinely smile - a sweet, easeful feeling that seemed to permeate her entire being and temporarily erase the concerns and looming questions of the world.

For a few moments she was simply _Minerva_ … sitting at a restaurant with an old friend, enjoying the sunshine and the company... without a care in the world.

* * *

Hermione brushed her hair out her eyes impatiently as she stalked through the library's tall shelves.

 _It's here, I know it's here…_ Her fingers traced the spines of old books and tomes, searching for a thin, cranberry colored edition that she remembered spying last week.

Master Kallas' personal library was extensive and the first time Hermione had visited she had nearly swooned at seeing so many texts devoted to both her disciplines. Her master did not believe in anything such as the Restricted Section at Hogwarts which meant there were plenty of tantalizingly advanced texts scattered throughout, though a number of the Darker books were safely enclosed behind glass cabinets on the western wall.

She had slept overnight on the comfortable couches near the windows on more than one occasion, having fallen into an engaging book and lost track of time… though with no Madam Pince to stop her, there was very little recourse for her actions beyond Master Kallas' amused expression and occasional lifted eyebrow if her sleep schedule began to suffer.

Casting a quick tempus, Hermione quickly deduced that she had thirty more minutes to search before needing to switch over to her Potions theses.

Despite the shock of her early morning dip in the sea and her current inability to find _Fluid Dynamics: Advanced Principles of Electromagnetism_ , the rest of the day had unfolded rather smoothly. An unexpected owl revealed that she would be meeting with both Yiayia and Ana in the coming two weeks… though she was unsure if the latter had been approved by Master Kallas.

Yiayia was to continue to instruct her in behavior and etiquette, writing that she intended to introduce Hermione to more of the Wizarding community in Greece, while also indicating that Ana was to help her learn the traditions and history that governed both societies as well as providing an introduction to formal dueling.

Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about the last bit of information, having immediately made a note to ask her master _why_ such a skill would be relevant before the Quorum.

She hadn't seen Master Kallas since the morning however… though in retrospect that had probably been helpful. It wasn't until after her swim that Hermione had realized that she had unknowingly plucked another swimsuit sent by Jean Granger, which didn't exactly lend itself to the studious demeanor that she intended to apply to herself over the next few weeks.

The older witch had left a short note that Hermione discovered at breakfast explaining that she intended to meditate, spend time in her chambers addressing a bit of correspondence and research. At the very bottom it was written that Master Kallas had a lunch date in the early afternoon and that Hermione was not to leave the villa until she returned.

Part of Hermione had chafed under the last instruction, though it wasn't an unreasonable demand and it's not like she had anywhere else to be. She preferred to do her physical training in the morning and beyond that, the rest of her day had been divided into writing her theses, fact-checking her work, and studying the information Master Kallas had provided before the Quorum - transcripts from previous meetings of the Society, texts on history, and a few papers on contemporary theories.

There was also a pile of books on Atlantis that Hermione was aching to read, though she couldn't rationalize putting the mysterious island before her formal work. They sat at one end of the couch like a beacon and she hoped to crack at least one open after dinner.

 _Yes!_

Tucked in a corner, the thick Muggle book was in a slightly different section than she had thought. Plucking it from the shelf deftly, Hermione swept back to the couch, fingers already flipping through the index eagerly.

Settling in comfortably against a light blue pillow, Hermione tucked her feet under herself and began to read.

* * *

"Well, I must say that I see where my apprentice learned her perfectionistic ways," Diamantina tossed lightly, one eyebrow rising as she pinned Minerva with a hard look.

They had been discussing their recent research and though it had been many years since Minerva had had time to submit anything for official publication, she admitted to her friend that a new paper had been in the works for the last five years, held back due to her own prescribed revisions.

(The paper required editing.)

"Ah, so you take no credit, then?" Minerva replied causing them both to chuckle. She waited a moment before reaching for her tea, casually asking, "So how is Miss Granger progressing?"

They had not yet discussed their mutual protégé at all.

When Diamantina didn't immediately answer, Minerva looked up to see the witch staring into the distance with a curious little smile gracing her lips.

"Hermione does very well, Minerva... As I'm sure you expected prior to sending her to me. Her mind is astounding," Diamantina replied evenly, her expression open and proud. Minerva nodded and smiled, sipping her tea with both hands to hide her own expression for a moment.

"She has a natural affinity for Transfiguration, as I'm sure you're well aware. But recently, I believe she's finally come to appreciate the sensuous passion that Potions can offer. She's applied herself to the training with a level of discipline I have never witnessed. If I am to be honest, Hermione's ability to navigate the difficulties of both curriculums is… unmatched, by anyone I have trained. I look forward to seeing her development in both disciplines as I feel she has a uniquely developed perspective for one so young," Diamantina said thoughtfully while Minerva listened with interest.

She had known from the beginning that theirs had promised to be an excellent match. She was incredibly pleased to hear Diamantina's confirmation of what she had hoped would transpire - that Diamantina would manage draw out the young witch's talent and provide her with the multifaceted challenges that would help Miss Granger develop her own voice within both disciplines as well as her individual voice as a strong and talented witch.

However, Minerva was surprised to note that a separate part of her was unexpectedly disappointed to not be participating in the young witch's education. And abruptly, she realized it was no longer her concern. While she was entitled by Society rule to ask further questions as Miss Granger's former mentor, she held them back. Whatever curiosity and interest she thought she held in Miss Granger's future was second to the burgeoning bond between master and apprentice.

"Indeed."

They both sipped their drinks silently for a moment, enjoying the soft birdsong and whisper of a breeze through the leaves overhead. It was something Minerva had always appreciated about her former apprentice. Diamantina was entirely comfortable and capable of allowing long silences between them while each witch held her own counsel.

"I wonder, perhaps, if you know whether or not Hermione's close friends have been away as of late?" Diamantina's quiet question rang in measured tones, and despite the many years since having seen her, Minerva recognized the other woman's veiled concern immediately.

"Both Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are in the midst of their second year at the Auror Academy," she replied, brow furrowing slightly. "To my knowledge they remain engaged in their studies."

She waited a beat. "Why do you ask?"

"Hermione conducts herself with grace and maturity that belies her age," Diamantina began, her long fingers stroking the edge of her napkin. "However it concerns me that she has had little contact with anyone from Great Britain since arriving on Naxos."

"Do you mean to say she has not been keeping correspondence with her friends?" Minerva asked curiously. That seemed rather out of character for the young witch. Diamantina tilted her head for a moment as if assessing whether or not she should answer.

"It has been many months since my apprentice has engaged with anyone beyond her parents," she replied softly. _Interesting._

To Minerva's knowledge both young men had their hands quite full under the strict tutelage of Gawain Robards at the Academy. It was no secret that the program was intense and despite their natural affinities for the fieldwork, Minerva had imagined the theoretical coursework had come as a rather unpleasant shock to both wizards. In their last meeting however, Molly Weasley had proudly revealed that the duo had taken to spending their evenings at the library of Grimmauld Place in order to study undisturbed. Minerva had wryly imagined it was a newfound practice.

Still, from what little she had observed of her Gryffindors in the summer following the War, all had been well. Her three charges had conducted themselves admirably despite the falling out between Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. Privately, Minerva had been relieved that their relationship had met a cordial end. While she knew Miss Granger better than she knew the other two, it had been clear from the start that both witch and wizard were mismatched. However, aside from that hiccup in events, Minerva could recall no indication of any discord between the three. _Interesting indeed..._

"I shall inquire discreetly," Minerva promised after a moment, earning her a thankful nod.

They lapsed into comfortable silence again, the clouds breaking to envelop them in warm sunshine.

Diamantina shifted as her robes caught the breeze and Minerva was treated to a full breath of the witch's familiar scent. The comforting, yet heady blend of eucalyptus, tea tree, and lavender mixed with light perfume had once ignited her ardor so easily.

She turned into the delicious smell and watched the last moments of the witch's neckline gap tantalizingly before Diamantina rearranged the fabric. Despite herself, Minerva's pulse quickened and she found herself moving to turn her gaze out to the azure coast, hoping the witch hadn't noticed her attentions.

"When must you return?" Diamantina asked in a low voice, and Minerva knew she had been caught. She folded her hands neatly, schooling her features into an impassive expression.

"In the next half hour," she replied evenly, returning her gaze to her friend.

Diamantina smiled gently and let her light eyes wander over Minerva's features lazily. At once, Minerva felt strangely naked to the seafoam gaze, a gentle flush beginning at her chest and spreading upward to burn at her cheeks. She had forgotten how easily Diamantina navigated the line between natural sensuality and something _more_. A small smile ghosted the full lips across from her and Minerva told herself it was simply the autumn chill that caused her to shiver lightly.

"Perhaps you would care to drop by the villa for dinner. I know Hermione would be pleased to see you," Diamantina suggested, sitting back and looking beyond Minerva to the sea. Ever perceptive, Minerva knew she was being given a moment to recover from the swell of tension that had abruptly arisen between them.

She opened her mouth to politely decline and somehow found that she couldn't. Although the conference was more than an inconvenience, Minerva had to admit that it was freeing to exist in the world outside of Hogwarts. And her lunch with Diamantina…

 _It has been too long since I've… what? Engaged in stimulating conversation? Been someone other than the Headmistress of Hogwarts? Been simply a woman?_

Minerva's gaze traced the line of Diamantina's neck and the soft planes of her body tastefully hidden by ivory folds. Her sharp eye was drawn to the exposed skin of the witch's forearm which rose in goosebumps as Minerva's eyes raked over her. _Oh, Diamantina… I see neither one of us has forgotten…_

"I imagine the session will conclude around seven," Minerva found herself saying. Diamantina's eyes immediately flicked back to hers, narrowing slightly as if assessing the seriousness of her intentions. A moment later, Minerva was graced with a lovely smile and tilt of the head.

"Then we shall await your presence with anticipation," Diamantina replied. "I trust you remember the way?"

"I trust that the wards will still recognize me?" she quipped lightly.

Unexpectedly, it was the wrong thing to say.

Diamantina ducked her head, a few loose curls falling across her face and Minerva caught the pained furrow between elegant brows.

"You know that you have always been welcome," Diamantina whispered in a constricted voice, her eyes suddenly bright as she gazed across the table intently. _Oh Dia..._

Minerva smiled and rose gracefully, stepping forward and placing a reassuring hand on Diamantina's shoulder. The younger witch looked up at her, her beautiful features a mask of uncertainty and long-forgotten pain. Inwardly, Minerva felt her heart clench as a shadow of the leaves from above played across soft skin and features she knew... and had known all too well.

"I do know that, my love. Never doubt that I have always known."

They looked at each other for a long moment, a myriad of unspoken emotions and thoughts passing between them as past and present collided. Inhaling deeply, Minerva skimmed the curve of Diamantina's chin with the back of her knuckles before stepping back.

"I shall see you tonight," she said, her eyes warm. Diamantina simply nodded and watched her leave.

Inside, Minerva quickly began reorganizing her thoughts, shuffling away all questions or concerns for the coming evening.

She had tipped the owners rather generously upon realizing that Diamantina had somehow managed to cover their shared lunch, thanking them profusely for the wonderful meal. They had smiled knowingly and assured her that any friend of 'Tina's was a friend of theirs and they would be happy to see such an elegant _witch_ in their establishment again.

She had left feeling rather flustered and surprised, a subtle tempus indicated that her portkey would activate in ten minutes. Minerva chose to slow down somewhat and revel in the fresh air and quaint scenery. She felt unexpectedly jittery.

The events of the morning seemed to rise up from the backdrop of her thoughts and Minerva flitted from concern to concern. It was too early to ask Diamantina about her own suspicions regarding the event in Río. Besides, now there was Hermione's safety to consider in the equation.

 _Hermione._

Bizarrely, Minerva found her thoughts escaping to her young cub.

 _Not a cub._

The young witch, then.

Diamantina's intuition was rarely wrong, though distantly Minerva was concerned that her friend had not yet addressed her own apprentice's shrinking circle of correspondence.

 _Stop it, Minerva. You are in no place to judge their relationship…_

Still… she knew that the end of the war had not come without its losses. The Trio had never confided the entirety of their journey to anyone, though Minerva suspected that they had suffered far more during their mystery year away from Hogwarts than anyone truly knew. That uncertainty hung like a blanket of guilt at the edge of Minerva's thoughts.

It was exactly that sort of knowledge that had forced her into her current predicament - desperately invested in the wellbeing of the school and all her young charges, but torn in wanting to lend a hand in thwarting the new threats that were rising to endanger them. She could not be in two places at once.

Minerva sighed as she dissolved into the dark shadows behind a stone wall. It was time to Apparate back to Sorrento before the Portkey activated to pull her away. There would be no documented record of her journey to Capri this day.

 _Too many young people have been scarred by fights that were never theirs to inherit._

She only hoped that Hermione had been spared.


	21. Chapter 21

"Hermione!" Master Kallas' clear tones rang out in the distance drawing Hermione up and out of the cloudy depths of her mind.

It took a moment for her to understand that the voice was laced with an unfamiliar urgency, and her parchments toppled to one side along with two or three books as she started - body jumping in several directions at once as she attempted to rise from the sofa. _Merlin's balls…!_

"I'm here!" she called quickly, already scrambling to pick up her materials. _Just when I was finding a flow…_

A moment later, Master Kallas glided into the Library, waving a hand to ignite the sconces on the wall. Belatedly, Hermione realized that the afternoon sun had shifted, throwing more of the room into shadow.

"There you are darling," Master Kallas alighted on a cushioned chair, waiting as Hermione stacked her books and shifted a few things so that she wouldn't lose her train of thought. "I apologize for disturbing you."

Hermione tried to smile, though she knew in her frustration it came out as more of a grimace. Pulling a hand through her hair, she took a deep breath.

"It's fine. Did you need something, Master?" she asked, noting that the elder witch seemed unusually tense.

"I wanted to inform you that we will be having a guest for dinner. I thought to keep it a surprise, but I know you don't necessarily enjoy those." Hermione felt her heart sink slightly at the prospect of losing precious hours of study time, but she nodded, taking in her master's strange posture and the way she kept furling and unfurling her robes as dark fingers kept bunching the robes above her knees.

"Someone I should know?" she asked, trying to phrase it lighter than she felt. _Ohh, but there's so much to do!_

"I should _hope_ you know Minerva well seeing as she was your Head of House for six years," Master Kallas replied, her lips curving into a tentative smile.

For a moment, Hermione merely nodded her agreement before her brain connected the name to the witch in question. A moment later she felt her heart lift at the prospect of seeing her mentor - _Oh, but there are so many things to tell her!_

… And then it abruptly dropped as Hermione realized that it would mean having to talk about Harry and Ron, reminiscing about Hogwarts, and likely her theses… _which are_ _ **unfinished**_ _and likely_ _ **terrible!**_ _Oh Merlin..._

"Speak, darling. If it is too much for you right now, I understand," Master Kallas reached out and placed a warm hand on Hermione's knee, her light eyes full of concern.

Hermione deflated slightly.

"No, no… I would _love_ to see her. I can't _not_ see her! I would feel terrible! I'm just… a little stressed about everything else, that's all…" she replied after a moment. Master Kallas' concern softened slightly and she nodded.

"Very well… though should you begin to feel uncomfortable at _any_ point of the evening, I will take care of things accordingly. All right, darling?" Master Kallas' fingers wrapped around her wrist and Hermione felt her eyes grow moist at the witch's fervent reassurance.

"Thank you, Master." She gently squeezed the hand back, feeling a rush of comfort and appreciation flood through their shared bond as Master Kallas smiled in return. Together they felt warm and… _strong._

A moment later, Master Kallas stood, passing a hand over Hermione's hair and trailing it along her cheek. She leaned into the gentle touch.

"All right… I will handle dinner preparations, I do not wish to take you from your studies more than necessary. If I may add one request to the evening, I hope you will take it under consideration?"

Clear eyes looked down at her in question.

"Of course, Master…" _Anything._

"I know Minerva is too much of a traditionalist to ask directly, but I request that you withhold a bit of information about your studies. Namely how close you are to submitting your theses and the manner in which we have condensed your schedule. It is not sensitive information… I just simply wish that your curricula remain bit of a... _surprise_." Master Kallas smiled mischievously and Hermione felt the distinct impression that her master's relationship with Minerva was far more complicated than she had let on.

Though actually, the request alleviated a lot of Hermione's anxiety and she quickly nodded her acquiescence with a bit of relief. It's not that she wasn't proud of herself nor the amount of information she had absorbed during her time on Naxos, it was just…

 _The next time you met Minerva again, you had hoped to be more of an equal._

Master Kallas bid her to return to her studies and Hermione scooted back into place, thinking hard, her previous train of thought long forgotten.

It was a stupid idea really. They would be seeing each other at the Quorum, and even if world events hadn't shifted her entire learning curve, Hermione guessed that there were still plenty of conferences and professional venues in which they would have had to interact regardless.

But somehow, at the back of her mind, Hermione had imagined revisiting her mentor _only_ after her third classifications. After the bulk of her fundamental knowledge had been attained, when she was beginning the prime years of her own research and personal development... and when they could speak as colleagues rather than the fallback roles of 'professor' and 'former student.'

 _Not to mention when you are a bit older and more mature in the ways that… er, matter._

In that one conversation she and Minerva had shared during the summer after the War, Hermione had received a small glimpse of the witch behind the mask, and _Merlin_ \- she had been enticing. Hermione wanted to know more about _her_. Not the Professor or Headmistress… or even the respected Transfiguration Mistress… just _Minerva._

Somehow, Hermione imagined it that it was going to be a long journey toward uncovering _that_ side of the witch.

 _Hell, you're probably going to still have to call her Professor McGonagall tonight_ , she thought with a flash of disappointment, flipping open a book in frustration.

Did Hermione want to see Professor McGonagall/Minerva?

Yes. Absolutely.

She just wished she had been given a bit more time.

* * *

"- would please turn your attention to Figure 86 C in the informational packet, you will see that a large percentage of the cost of materials has graciously been absorbed by private donors. However, the Economic Council recommends -"

Minerva shifted slightly, her mind wandering from yet another nitpicky discussion concerning the ICW's budget toward supporting the relief efforts. Reconstruction was already well underway in The United States, Australia, and Russia, though the Auror investigations were projected to be ongoing for another few weeks. The Sagrada Familia had come under a wave of sociopolitical upheaval - sparking a disagreement between Spain and France over perceived slights against their national sovereignty.

However, Río was proving to be the biggest headache. Despite the small scale of the actual event at the statue of Christ the Redeemer, the Prime Minister of Brazil was refusing to absorb the cost of the ISOS violation - namely the relief efforts underway to minimize the impact on the local Muggle population, no doubt owing to the country's recent economic instability. They had been talking in circles for the last forty minutes and Minerva's patience was beginning to wane.

A glance around the chambers indicated that others were of similar mindset. The majority of faces were drawn in irritation and impatience, and there were a number of whispered side conversations happening as the Head Mage of the Economic Council continued droning on about numbers. Minerva's attention perked up however, as her enhanced hearing caught the threads of a whispered conversation happening several desks to her right.

"- shame about the basilica. It was one of my favorite collaborations."

"Hmph. Collaboration. The Muggles are too simple minded to recognize that their supposed national monument is a testament to Wizarding ingenuity," a gruff voice answered.

"Each to his own. The research was fascinating. My good friend was apprenticing beneath the Head Architect. Shame about the loss there…" The first wizard was shaking his head, though Minerva couldn't see past the one to his left.

"You don't think it's strange?" A third voice lightly from the farthest right. Minerva inhaled deeply, covering her observation with a subtle stretch. _The delegate from Lithuania._

"How do you mean?"

"I mean… it's already been whispered that the lead Architect on the Muggle side appeared to have been Oblivated when Aurors questioned him. And not well from the looks of it…"

There was a bit of brief muttering and Minerva pursed her lips in irritation.

"- surely not?"

"- array of ideas. Theodotus was well known for his work into ancient architecture. He studied the Necromanteion at Kyryptos for a number of years prior to his work on the basilica."

There was a brief bit of blustering as the first two wizards attempted to shush the third. Minerva fought not to roll her eyes. _There are far more concerning matters afoot than the continued practice of Necromancy._

Their conversation shifted into talk of Atlantis and the places they had visited during the recess, avoiding further mention of the westernmost peak of the island and its controversial community-in-residence. Minerva briefly returned her attention to the front of the room, settling back when she realized they were still working out the details of the aid package for Brazil.

A part of her bristled that the three wizards hadn't thought to be more discreet.

Privacy charms and jinxes were prohibited by the chamber wards, (Minerva could imagine a dozen different methods for circumventing those limitations), but a moment later she frowned at realizing the first two men were delegates from Belarus.

 _They would have little interest in the politics of Spain or France…_

The third wizard from Lithuania - the one with the more interesting information was a man she didn't recognize. Another surreptitious glance indicated that he only wore the pins for the General Assembly and his country of origin. Minerva's eyes narrowed. His was exactly the sort of careless behavior that would get someone killed.

Still… the news he had related was indeed disturbing. It seemed implied that Theodotus had been a close friend of the Lithuanian wizard - Minerva recognized the name from the list of casualties at the Sagrada Familia as having been that of Head Architect, Theodotus Ambrozaitys His death during the collapse of the basilica's spires had been a heavy loss for the Architectural Guild, which had been slowly growing smaller over the years.

But Minerva was more concerned with the offhanded comment about Necromanteion. _And then there was the suspicious nature of the thwarted transfiguration in Río…_

There were abstract clues floating around those two events in particular that gave Minerva pause. Severus had already relayed his concerns about the event in St. Petersburg, though she'd had less of an intuitive spark there. That had been a quick and dirty job. Same with the events in San Francisco and Sydney. Those had been for shock value, she was sure of it.

But Río almost appeared like a mistake - why transform the statue into a demonic creature and then change it back, only to remove a part of it? It looked like an interruption or aberration…

 _Though perhaps that is exactly what it was…_

That strange event plus the complicated threads of the Sagrada Familia's collapse were weaving themselves together into a gossamer signature whose wisps of intention she was only just beginning to see. Without the reports, Minerva felt like she was putting together a three-dimensional puzzle whose final picture remained a mystery… while doing so in the dark.

To say she was frustrated was an understatement. _If only I had access to those investigation reports..._

Filius shifted next to her and Minerva's eyes abruptly shifted, leaving her thoughts for the moment and quickly absorbing in her friend's sweeping script as he wrote down several notes in a Runic series she didn't recognize. It looked like he was writing an Arithmantic set of equations, but without the base of familiar symbols, she couldn't be sure.

 _What are you up to, my friend?_

"I move to call!"

Minerva sighed and both she and Filius straightened slightly, their respective thought patterns suspended as once again, the chambers broke out into a chorus of dissonant voices. She glanced up at the tempus. _17:23._

 _Only a few more hours…_ she thought hopefully.

* * *

Eleftheria Kefalas reclined back and sipped on a generous glass of Agiorgitiko, nimble fingers spreading over the newspaper before her, careful to smooth the light pages so they wouldn't wrinkle. Her sharp eyes read a smaller article near the bottom of the page quite slowly, taking note of the significant names and dates that were as familiar to her as the photograph at the top.

Her heart constricted painfully as the bright eyes of her friend winked up at her rakishly, his tanned, wizened features still betraying a glimpse of the rugged youth that had so brazenly pursued her once, a long time ago.

 _Oh, Theodotus, my friend… you will be missed._

Thinking carefully for a long moment, Eleftheria set her glass down smoothly. For a brief moment she watched as the firelight glinted off several of her gold rings. _How many of these did we earn together, Theo?_

After a moment, she pressed the newspaper away and drew a blank sheet of parchment forward. Working carefully, she sketched an image of a bouquet of flowers. To the right, a bloom of Helenium nestled next to a burst of wild honeysuckle, surrounded by delicate leaves of Coltsfoot. Most prominent were bursts of marigold.

At the very bottom, she wrote a short note in Ancient Greek:

 _I regret to inform you of the tragic death of our close friend… may his memory be for a blessing to all in our company. May ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth new wings to carry us all forward…_

Leaving it unsigned, she quickly removed the obituary from the newspaper and charmed it not to fold. Rolling it carefully into the sheet of parchment, Eleftheria deftly tapped both papers to Disillusion their contents. Anyone opening it would simply see a rather asinine letter about her recent trip to Egypt and a newspaper recipe for low-fat shwarma.

Fixing it with her personal seal, she rose smoothly and made her way across her study toward a rather elegant box resting upon one end of a bookshelf.

At first glance, the box appeared to be nothing more than a fanciful decoration; it was thin and narrow, barring more helpful or traditional uses, and embossed with a handpainted fractal that looked like iridescent lace. Only the careful observer would realize its true nature, and even then, it would only _work_ for a member of the Guild.

Carefully placing the parchment inside, Eleftheria closed it and murmured a short incantation, tapping it twice. She did not need to open it to know her message had been sent.

 _There._ Her colleagues had been notified.

 _Hopefully Zohar or René will have information we can use._

Eleftheria sighed, shaking her head lightly. _Another member of the Guild gone…_

Returning to her desk, she sat heavily, ringed hand twisting her wine glass as she stared into its contents unseeingly.

There were indeed dark days ahead.

* * *

 _A/N: As you may imagine, Yiayia's message had a series of codes wrapped into it. The phrase, "May his memory be for a blessing," is a traditional Jewish prayer for the deceased, sometimes written as 'zichronam livracha.'_

 _The flowers all possess hidden meanings, as taken from Victorian flower codes:_

 _Helenium - Tears_  
 _Wild Honeysuckle - Inconsistency_  
 _Coltsfoot - Injustice_  
 _Marigold - Grief_

 _The short quote alludes to a message from Shakespeare's Henry VI:_

"My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth  
A bird that will revenge upon you all:  
And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven,  
Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with."

 _You have my assurance that a good amount of backstory will be revealed in the next three chapters. :)_

-R


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: Enjoy!_

* * *

Minerva appeared before a wrought iron gate with a quiet pop of displaced air.

At first glance it appeared dilapidated, with a sign in Greek warning against unstable ground. Pressing it open, she felt the telltale pressure of active warding before the resistance abruptly dissolved, allowing her entrance.

Walking forward confidently, Minerva made her way up the flagstone path that appeared at once. She drew comfort from the myriad of fresh smells, that brought forth a wave of old memories. The salty brine of the sea wafted past on a gentle breeze and she felt an unexpected pang of nostalgia… _how many times did you swim off this coast?_

Wearily, she lifted the hem of her robes and carefully made her way up toward the clean silhouette of the Kefalas villa. With a sigh, Minerva felt the impending wave of fatigue settle upon her shoulders. Her head still swam with far too many unanswered questions from the session.

 _And that is where there they shall remain for now, old girl_ …

Stepping up toward the bright blue doorway, Minerva paused, drawing herself upward. In an instant, she cleared the web of suspicion from her mind, tucking stray thoughts into place as she would an untidy room. At least her Mastery still served.

Lifting a hand she knocked confidently, smiling lightly as she thought of the two witches awaiting her arrival. Both unique and strong individuals to be sure… confident, intelligent, courageous, _beautiful_... it promised to be an engaging evening to say the least.

A rustling in the bushes to her right had Minerva drawing her wand and bending her knees immediately.

"Mrrowrr?" A black face with gold eyes popped forth and a moment later, Minerva found herself sinking down, offering an open hand to a rather large black cat with white paws who emerged from the carefully pruned leaves.

"Well, hello…" she murmured quietly, smiling in bemusement as the feline stepped carefully onto the stoop, approaching her hand rather cautiously. _Of all people to own a_ _cat…_

With furrowed brow, Minerva recalled her former apprentice's distinct expression of distaste after Minerva had first transformed into her Animagus. She sniffed in amusement at the memory. _I wonder if he's Miss Granger's?_

 _::A friend?::_ Came a wordless query.

Gold eyes observed her carefully and Minerva lifted an eyebrow in surprise. _A Kneazle, then._

 _::Yes, a friend. Of Diamantina and Miss Granger::_ She sent images of both witches and the tail curled in understanding.

 _::But you are not human?::_ The message was slightly more complicated but Minerva understood the gist. The animal was concerned about her Animagi. It stared at her impassively.

 _::Not always::_ She sent a few more images attempting to explain, and the gold eyes narrowed again, eyeing her suspiciously as if she were about to burst into feathers or fur.

 _::I accept this::_ A moment later a small and rather inelegant "oof" escaped her as the large animal launched itself into her arms. Minerva chuckled lightly as he rubbed his face against her chin, purring like a motor while she attempted to rearranged herself to accommodate him.

Just as she was about to straighten, Minerva felt a shift of light and a gentle voice resounded in surprise.

"Professor?"

Abruptly, the Kneazle was gone and Minerva found herself holding her arms rather awkwardly as the furry mass disappeared. _Blast it._ She straightened immediately, meeting caramel eyes that were looking at her with a combination of bemusement and happiness.

"Hermione," the name was blurted in surprise… and Minerva found she couldn't take it back.

Her former protégé stood at the threshold, framed in warm light, wearing a becoming set of thin ivory robes that could only have been chosen by Diamantina. Minerva's eyes drank in the lovely vision before her - noting how the light fabric hugged a strong, lithe frame rippling with muscle, falling gently over long legs and resting on bare toes just peeking out over the tiles. The witch fairly beamed at her, her tanned features contrasting the whiteness of her smile attractively.

They stared at each other for a long moment and then Minerva was caught off guard as the witch fairly launched herself into Minerva's arms, enveloping her in a warm hug that she quickly discovered she was only too eager to return.

"It's so good to see you, Professor," the witch murmured before stepping back and allowing her entrance.

"It's wonderful to see you too, Miss Granger," Minerva said, hoping to regain a bit of familiar footing. Her robes suddenly felt rather warm.

" _Hermione_ ," the witch said firmly, shaking her head slightly. Her heart leapt briefly at the invitation but Minerva simply smiled.

"Hermione," she affirmed, stepping across the threshold with a careful sweep of the godforsaken violet robes. Looking around the foyer briefly, Minerva's senses swam as the familiar environment impressed itself upon her. The younger witch closed the door gently and Minerva felt her brow furrow as she paused to consider her options.

"I suppose it is only fair that you call me Minerva, then," she murmured after a moment, attempting to toss the sentiment off lightly.

Hearing no immediate answer, she turned and found the young woman leaning against the door and watching her quietly, her full lips tipping into a gentle curve that was… _is she being coy?_

"Minerva," the witch purred and Minerva fought not to let her features betray her surprise and… distinct pleasure.

A moment later, Hermione shifted… opening a hand and Minerva watched as a neat pile of fabric appeared.

"Before we continue, Minerva… I've been _instructed_ not to let you any further until you agree to change into something more comfortable," Hermione said, one dark brow lifting slightly as Minerva's own crept into dubious expression.

"Oh?" she replied dryly. Hermione appeared to be trying not to laugh as she leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Please understand that if you do not do as I say, there will be… _consequences."_ At that Minerva took a deep breath, hazarding a glance in the direction of the kitchen where she knew Diamantina would be working. Doubtless the witch was responsible for such a ridiculous request. Looking back, she found Hermione smiling in a way that was unfamiliar and unnerving.

"Am I to divine then that these are for me?" Minerva asked, eyes raking over the bundle of ivory with no small amount of suspicion.

"Yes. Though Master Kallas wished me to communicate that while you are free to change the color, she will be displeased if you transfigure the amount," Hermione replied evenly, both eyebrows lifting in challenge.

Minerva sighed and took the bundle, noting that it was clearly only _two_ sets of robes. _The nerve of that witch. Undressing me in the presence of a former student. For shame!_

"Very well. I am much too tired to argue against consequences… no matter how _enticing_ they may prove to be," she finally said, wondering how her statement would be received. Minerva experienced a brief moment of disbelief as Hermione's cheeks flushed lightly, her lips parting as if to say something, before her expression settled into a simple one of challenge.

Minerva filed that information away for later as she turned and swept off in the direction of Diamantina's rooms.

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to, Diamantina!" Minerva called loudly, even as her nose picked up the scintillating smell of gourmet food. _Oh, that witch will be the end of me for sure._

A musical laugh reached her ears and Minerva allowed herself a broad smile.

 _It has indeed been far too long._

* * *

Hermione drifted back into the kitchen as Dia was removing a glass pan from the oven. Her focus momentarily on the food, she almost missed the dreamy sigh as the witch settled in at the island, toying with her wine glass quietly.

"We have a bit of time, darling. I've charmed the doors to remain shut until she showers and re-dresses," Dia explained lightly. "There's a note waiting for her in my chambers."

A moment later, Hermione's features shifted from surprise to delight as she laughed, causing a rippling sensation to pass over Dia's body.

"Well… in that case, is there anything I can do to help?" Hermione asked. Dia tidied up the area with a wordless _Scourgify_ and turned back to the island.

"Not at the moment. Most everything is under a stasis charm until we are ready, and the kataifi require a bit more time," she replied evenly, watching her apprentice surreptitiously even as she poured herself a glass of wine. Something had changed.

Electing to wait, Dia smiled softly even as Hermione bit a lip, leaning on the island in a way that she typically wouldn't have appreciated… but then… _this evening is about letting things go._

"She told me to call her Minerva," Hermione admitted after a moment, fixing Dia with a somewhat guilty expression. Rather than comment on the complex spiral of emotions she was detecting, Dia simply lifted her glass and clinked it against Hermione's with a soft smile.

The witch gave her a lopsided smile before sipping her wine quietly.

"She would not have granted that honor if you weren't deserving, darling," Dia murmured, stepping around to slip an arm around Hermione's waist. When she received no response, she shook her gently until Hermione eyed her and gave a light giggle.

"It is high praise," she said, bumping the witch's glass again. The light sound resonated in the room and Hermione nodded, swallowing a smile.

Satisfied that her apprentice had been reassured, Dia stepped away and moved around the kitchen to pass a glance over the dessert which was beginning to brown. The delicious scent of caramelized sugar began wafting through the room.

Hermione's mood shifted again to one that had Dia quirking her head a moment later. She felt her brow furrow.

"Tell me, are you worried of how Minerva will react to your sexual orientation?" she asked curiously, attempting to get at the heart of what their bond was intimating. Hermione flushed and shifted, her features betraying her conflicting emotions.

"Y-ye… No? Maybe? I don't know," she replied, apparently surprising herself. A thoughtful look crossed her features.

"You do realize the irony of such a fear, don't you, darling?" Dia asked dryly as she sipped her wine delicately. Hermione gave her a suffering look before dissolving into a quick burst of laughter. A moment later she sighed rather dramatically and took a small circle around herself.

"I'm being stupid, aren't I?" Hermione moaned, passing a hand through her mane of curls. At Dia's request, she had left them loose and they spilled across her shoulders and down her back like a waterfall. Or lioness.

"No darling. Again, I apologize for springing this evening upon you. I realize it must be difficult for you to navigate this collision of two separate aspects of your life. It is always challenging to reconnect with others who remember you from a different time in your life," Dia replied gently, even as Hermione turned and leaned against the island facing away from her.

"How did this evening come about anyway?" Hermione asked after a moment. Dia tilted her head, hoping her apprentice wouldn't be offended by her secrecy.

"Minerva sent me a note earlier this week indicating that she had business in the Mediterranean... I offered to meet her for lunch. We exchanged correspondence and decided to meet this afternoon," she summarized evenly.

"So then she's doing something with the ICW?" Hermione asked curiously, turning to look over her shoulder. Dia chuckled. _Nothing escapes this brilliant mind._

"That is not for me to say and it is up to Minerva should she wish to divulge anything to us tonight."

"You mean to _me._ " Hermione twisted, leaning on one hip as her features settling into a more impassive expression. Dia tilted her head, unsure of which direction her apprentice's emotions were heading.

"As I said, it is not for me to say," she replied carefully. The moment passed and Hermione nodded her acceptance much faster than Dia anticipated.

Her apprentice set down her wine glass and circled the island in a deliberate manner that made Dia tense. The witch's long curls fell across her face, obscuring her expression while one long hand trailed along the counter as she sauntered over.

"Master?" The question came out as a gentle purr, as Dia lifted an eyebrow. _This is new._

"Apprentice?" She responded as professionally as possible.

"I don't suppose you could indulge me for a moment…" She pressed closer, lips parted as her eyes raked over Dia's face and to the exposed skin of her decolletage.

"In what manner?" Dia asked neutrally, willing herself to remain still. _What is this witch up to?_

"A _personal_ one."

Dia's thoughts grew muddied as the witch took a step closer and pressed her body flush against Dia's left side, one arm crossing over her to fiddle with the hem of her right sleeve playfully.

"What might that be?" she managed. Hermione drew closer and her full lips came dangerously close… Dia's vision was swimming with tanned skin, caramel, and honey.

"I was wondering if you could tell me… one thing that I absolutely hate?"

Dia's brow furrowed as it took a bit longer for the question to compute. _Hate?_

"Wh-" she began, stopping as an elegant finger pressed itself to her lips. Distantly she was aware of another set of long fingers caressing the back of her neck lightly. _Sweet Circe!_

"The one thing I hate more than anything in the world…"

The lips drew closer as the finger abruptly left and Dia's pulse hammered in her ears. She was suddenly far too hot -

"Is when others withhold relevant information from me." Hermione finished by pinning her with a glare even as her body held Dia captive. _Oh._

Dia was at a loss.

 _"Interesting."_

The third voice was unexpected and the both of them swiveled their heads in comedic synchronization to see Minerva standing at the threshold to the kitchen, leaning against the door frame with a smug expression. Despite her growing dismay, Dia was pleased to see her former mentor wearing the light robes she had provided and the long ebony hair confined to asimple braid over one shoulder.

"I might have to agree with you Miss Gr- _Hermione_ …" Minerva stepped forward and moved to the island where she began pouring herself a glass of wine. Interestingly enough, Hermione did nothing to move herself from the compromising position, remaining pressed against Dia suggestively even as her caramel eyes watched Minerva carefully.

"There's nothing I dislike more than having information withheld from me… though I suppose, Diamantina, in this instance you can consider yourself lucky. You've managed to lure me here and demystify my person, yes… however I can only thank you for not having completely unraveled Hermione's sensibilities. Good witch." Minerva paused and lifted her glass in Hermione's direction before holding up an elegant finger. Dia's brows rose.

"However, I do not forgive the mere two layers of robes. Last I checked this was not a brothel."

The amusement bubbled up from below and Dia quickly found herself laughing with abandon, drawing Hermione along with her as Minerva sipped her wine with the delicate arch of one brow. Hermione shot Dia a playful glare as she sauntered over to the island to refill her own glass, ivory robes swirling around her ankles attractively.

Dia recovered quickly, shaking her head in amusement while absorbing the willowy frame encased in bright emerald silk. _She looks gorgeous._ Despite Minerva's protest, she could tell the witch was more at ease after her long day… and hopefully more willing to unwind. _She deserves a break._

"I will not apologize for giving voice to your oft-concealed beauty," Dia replied succinctly, turning to adjust the oven with a flourish of a hand. Hermione nodded, clearly more at ease with her former professor's presence. That was proved a moment later when caramel eyes narrowed and gave Minerva an appreciative once over.

"Yes, don't. She's right Minerva, you look… positively delectable," Hermione declared confidently, her smile broadening as Minerva's green eyes widened in surprise and a blush lit her cheeks. Dia swallowed a grin before pointing a finger at Hermione.

"Nor will I apologize for keeping such a _delectable_ surprise a secret… even from my own apprentice," Dia finished, tipping a lazy smile.

"Touché," Hermione replied, lifting her class toward Dia with a saucy smirk. Minerva remained silent, clearly at a loss for how to respond to their appreciation. Dia was pleased a moment later when Hermione stepped back slightly and gave Minerva a bit of space, shifting to open her attention to the both of them.

"So… there is but one question remaining before dinner. Would you care to eat inside or outside, Minerva?" she asked lightly. The witch in question shifted lightly, her features retreating into an inscrutable expression.

"Outside, perhaps. It would be a shame to waste such a lovely November evening indoors," Minerva replied, her eyes warm as she looked beyond Hermione toward the bay windows. The sea was stained a brilliant shade of crimson as the bright orb of the sun fell toward the horizon.

"Very well. If you would prepare the table, Hermione? I shall join you in a moment," Dia said, already turning back toward the kataifi with a smile. Her apprentice nodded and gestured for Minerva to go first as they made their way toward the outer terrace.

They deserved a bit of time on their own.

* * *

Minerva stepped into the sea breeze with an appreciative inhale, trailing behind slightly as Hermione led her toward a dark outdoor table boasting a bouquet of generous blooms and a number of Diamantina's favorite candles. The terrace was beautiful - wreathed in candlelight all around with a number of floating lights that reminded her of the Great Hall.

"I have missed this place," Minerva found herself saying absently as she gazed out over the coast to where the sun was slowly sinking below the waves. It had always seemed much larger on Naxos. She crossed her arms gently, feeling the breeze tug at a few tendrils that had escaped her long braid.

Hermione said nothing, simply smiling softly to herself as she quickly set the table with a few deft flicks of her wand. Another wave and Minerva felt the telltale signs of a Warming Charm and she shivered lightly in appreciation.

At once, Minerva found herself curious. While the young witch before her was clearly still the same young Gryffindor that had once been under her charge, she found herself surprised by the woman's grace and confidence. Her own thoughts startled her and Minerva realized with a start that, _yes, she is a woman._

Beyond the lean figure and timeless features that no longer held the softness of youth… she had been caught off guard at having returned to the kitchen in time to witness a… _seduction in progress?_

Her mind had quickly ground itself to a halt at seeing her two former proteges in such close quarters. It would not have been such a stretch if Diamantina had initiated, but _Hermione?_ A few more moments had revealed the younger witch's slinky disagreement, but still… the familiarity and underlying sensuality could not be entirely false. How had Minerva missed such a crucial aspect of the girl - no _, woman's_ \- development? Was this the reason she no longer conversed with her childhood friends?

"Minerva? Would you care to sit?" The light voice drew her out of her thoughts and Minerva smiled politely.

"Certainly. Forgive me… it's been a rather long day," she replied, sweeping forward and settling across from Hermione gently. Caramel eyes seemed much darker in the dim lighting and Minerva found herself tracing the elegant features as if she had never seen them before.

"Master Kall- _Dia_ , has essentially told me not to ask, but may I infer that you have just come from Atlantis?"

 _Perceptive._

"I can neither confirm nor deny," Minerva replied neutrally, drawing a half-smile from the witch. Hermione nodded her acceptance before taking a sip of wine, one thumb rubbing the stem absently.

"Than I suppose my questions will be answered in a few weeks," she said softly, leaning back slightly and gazing at Minerva through lidded eyes.

Minerva took a deep breath. On one hand, she knew logically that Hermione had very little opportunity to interact with those who would abuse the information… and that in certain circles, it was common knowledge that she held a seat on the General Assembly.

However, a larger part of Minerva had difficulty divulging information that would potentially place Hermione at risk... and though it seemed her plans would reveal most everything shortly, she wanted to hold onto her knowledge for as long as possible.

"I had hoped I wouldn't see you for some time."

Minerva stilled, unsure of what to make of the opaque statement and the impassive expression gracing the witch across from her. Unexpectedly, she felt a rather unpleasant heaviness settle into the pit of her stomach as she considered the weight of those words.

"I had wanted to wait until I had finished my third classifications…" Hermione twirled her glass between her fingertips, her lips twisting into a wry smile. "Perhaps that is foolish, I know. But I had hoped that we would meet again as colleagues… and that you could learn to see me in a different light, perhaps."

Sweeping cheekbones flushed lightly and Minerva felt her heart warm.

The witch was more unpredictable than she had anticipated, though bizarrely Minerva felt a buoyant sensation flood through her that quickly soothed and replaced the tendrils of disappointment at having imagined that her former protégé wanted nothing more to do with her. For a moment, Minerva had wondered if Diamantina had become something greater to Hermione than Minerva… that perhaps they possessed something deeper, and while she shoved the feeling away, Minerva wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"I have not asked after your progress with Diamantina, nor shall I. Though it is clear to me, even at this moment that you are not the same witch who asked me for a recommendation letter before leaving Hogwarts. You are much changed, Hermione," Minerva said softly, her voice low.

Hermione remained silent, expression inscrutable as she watched her with luminous eyes.

Minerva sighed, realizing that even now her words rang true. This was not the same witch… and she deserved a measure of honesty.

"It is not that I do not trust you, Hermione. On the contrary, I trust you implicitly. However there are certain facts and events of our world that remain unclear to me at this time and I will not risk your life by giving you partial information. I value you too much for that…" Minerva trailed off, choosing to focus on her wine glass as the weight of her words echoed in the space.

"There are many things unfolding at this time, Hermione. I cannot say where they are leading, but indeed some of them are quite Dark. There are a number of choices to be made in the coming days and weeks, and I worry-"

"I appreciate your candor, Minerva. I will not press the issue," Hermione interrupted softly, lifting an elegant hand.

Minerva looked up sharply to see the younger witch smiling at her gently, an understanding expression spreading itself across her features. Minerva bit back her surprise at the interruption and a moment later, the smile broadened as Hermione's eyes fluttered toward the vase of flowers shyly.

"This is not an evening for heavy thoughts. Thank you for your honesty and I apologize if I made you feel as though you had to accommodate my insecurities."

Minerva blinked, suddenly unsure of what to make of the woman before her. Her brazen lion cub was much changed, to use her own words from a moment before… it seemed she had learned a great deal from Diamantina.

The direct, forthright nature that Minerva had learned to appreciate about the witch had developed into something much more enigmatic and unpredictable.

But before she could hazard a reply, Diamantina emerged from the villa quietly and they both turned to watch her approach. Minerva's eyes drank in the petite form, noting that the witch had taken her hair down. The riotous mane of dark curls rivaled Hermione's and Minerva decided it was a most becoming look for the both of them.

Diamantina settled between them at the head of the table, giving them both a coy smile.

"Are you hungry?" she asked playfully. Minerva glanced across the table where Hermione lifted a brow in her direction.

"Famished."

"Ravenous."

"Starved."

"Peaked."

"Dying."

"Voracious."

"I could eat a hippogriff," Hermione deadpanned. Minerva paused and bit back a laugh.

"Ditto." Though she hated that word, it was worth it to see Hermione dissolve into laughter even as Diamantina rolled her eyes and swept an arm over the table to present their meal.

A short moment later, she and Hermione shared another conspiratorial glance as Diamantina quickly took both their plates and began loading them with fresh salad, moussaka, Mediterranean chicken, and a few other side dishes that Minerva didn't recognize.

"Please, Diamantina… if you weigh me down with that much, I shall be unable to Apparate home," she said sternly.

"Would it be so bad? You could stay overnight and join us for a morning swim," Diamantina replied playfully. Hermione simply chuckled and Minerva pursed her lips in disapproval before accepting the meal carefully.

"There's always Mount Zeus, too," Hermione added, even as she lifted a forkful of salad toward her lips.

"Or morning yoga…"

"Weightlifting."

Minerva sent Hermione a glare.

"We could go for a run," Dia suggested, nudging Hermione's elbow. The younger witch bit back a snort.

"Enough. As delightful as it would be to stay, you both are well aware of my duties at Hogwarts," Minerva replied archly, taking a smooth bite of moussaka. The flavor burst upon her tongue and she was hard pressed not to sigh in contentment.

"Duties shmooties," Hermione said, waving a hand airily. Diamantina chuckled and Minerva simply rolled her eyes.

There was a bit more teasing chatter from the both of them before the discussion moved on to other topics. They continued eating - Hermione asking a few pointed questions about preparation and spices that made Minerva curious as to the nature of her Potions classifications, but she simply sat back and listened with appreciation as her former students spoke quickly and with the pointed perspectives of discerning scholars.

And despite the initial trepidation she had felt before arriving, Minerva found herself relaxing slowly… lulled by the combination of good food, good company, and the beautiful ambiance.

As the sky continued to grow darker and the stars began to grace the inky velvet, her sense of peace grew stronger… and for once, she allowed herself to simply enjoy and let everything else go.

* * *

 _A/N: Prepare yourself to learn a little bit more..._


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: Ah well, late night conversations over wine never do go as planned...  
_

* * *

"You did not!"

"Yes…" Minerva paused and sipped her wine slowly, both hands cupping the glass and twisting it as she smiled into the dark liquid. "And then later when I discovered him doing it a second time, I… er... hexed his bits."

Hermione found herself laughing alongside Master Kallas, whose dark curls fairly vibrated in disbelief. Her master drained her glass with a flourish before setting it down on the table and pinning Minerva with an arched eyebrow.

"Minerva McGonagall, you shady lady!"

"You are not the only one with wily ways, my dear."

Hermione sniffed in amusement… still hard pressed to believe that her former professor could have ever sat a detention.

"And what about you, darling? What excessive measures did you resort to while at Hogwarts?" Master Kallas purred, fixing her with her light clear gaze. Hermione shook her head wistfully even as she caught Minerva eyeing her in curiosity.

"The most I ever did was punch Draco Malfoy in the nose," she replied sadly. Master Kallas chuckled and sat forward, while Minerva's eyebrows rose to greet her hairline.

"Third-year. He called me a 'mudblood,' and I… let him have it," she explained. Her master gave an approving nod.

"Good for you, darling. A dirty insult should always be matched with a dirty play," Master Kallas said seriously to Hermione's bemusement as she lifted her empty glass in a small salute.

"I hope that wasn't the official doctrine of advice that you dispensed to students back in the day, Diamantina," Minerva muttered. Master Kallas chuckled lightly, sending a light shiver over Hermione's shoulders. Her master winked.

"Only to members of my House," she replied primly.

Following a few select bites of kataifi and another bottle of wine, the three of them were still sitting at the outdoor table on the terrace, trading stories from their school years and moments of mischief. Hermione, admittedly, was fascinated by the two witches in her company and had largely listened… feeling a strange sense of surrealism as she watched her two mentors converse like old friends.

 _Which is exactly what they are, dumdum!_

"I take it that Draco was not a paramour, then?" Master Kallas' question brought her back to the conversation at hand.

Minerva sniffed wryly as Hermione attempted to keep her facial expression neutral.

"Unfortunately, no. Draco was a Slytherin student in my year who had a rather severe case of Pureblood supremacy and a legacy of Dark wizards to live up to," she replied dispassionately. Master Kallas inhaled deeply and nodded.

"I had thought that Mr. Weasley was a rather serious contestant for that title?"

Minerva's carefully phrased question was surprising and again, Hermione fought to keep her expression neutral as she considered a reply. She hadn't imagined the witch to ask such a personal query.

"He was for a time…" she began slowly, feeling Master Kallas still. "However, during our year in hiding, it became clear to me that we had grown into different people. After the Battle of Hogwarts, we both acknowledged that we had become different people with different needs."

Twisting her wine glass, Hermione cast a small smile towards Master Kallas who was watching her with a rather intense expression. _I guess it's now or never, then._

"And then of course... it all made perfect sense when I discovered that I prefer the company of witches to wizards," she declared with a chuckle, lifting her glass in a small salute.

Raising her eyes, Hermione was surprised to see Minerva watching her curiously - her emerald gaze somewhat astonished, as if she were suddenly seeing Hermione for the first time. Hermione blinked and the expression was gone. Minerva merely lifted an eyebrow before raising her own glass and pinning her with a rather serious look.

"Cheers to _that!"_

Master Kallas laughed, running a gentle hand down Hermione's arm as she blushed and clinked glasses with Minerva.

"I take it that your journey to Australia with young Mister Weasley solidified that fact, then?"

The unexpected question caught Hermione off-guard and she sat back, somewhat deflated even as Master Kallas' concern washed over her.

Minerva's expression quickly shifted to concern as well and Hermione shook her head, surprised by the force of emotion suddenly coursing through her.

"Ah. No… we had parted amicably long before that trip," she replied, taking a deep breath.

Two pairs of eyes were watching her with growing expressions of worry.

"Hermione?"

Hermione laughed mirthlessly and tried to give Master Kallas a reassuring smile.

"I apologize. I haven't considered that part of my life for a while," she said, taking another deep breath and sitting forward. She hated how quickly her eyes were growing moist and the way Minerva was frowning, even as she leaned upon the table slightly. _This is why you should have told someone a long time ago!_

"I am sorry for upsetting you, Hermione…" The Scottish lilt seemed more pronounced and Hermione quickly waved away the apology with a hand.

"No, no… don't apologize. How could you have known?" Hermione sighed and gave them both a wavering smile as she worked to stem the flood of emotion.

"Ron and Harry were the only people that knew…" Willing herself not to cry, she sat forward and steepled both hands on the table. Focusing on the wood grain and flickering candles seemed to help.

"Before we left on our mission, I Obliviated my parents and sent them to Australia." Both witches shifted and Hermione heard a sharp intake of breath.

"I was afraid that Voldemort would somehow find them and either kill them outright or use them against me in some way… The Ministry was obviously no help at the time, so I did what I thought I needed to keep them safe." She took another steadying breath.

"It wasn't until after the War that I set out to find them. Ron came with me… and it took a lot of searching, but eventually I discovered they had set up a new practice and created a new life for themselves."

Hermione exhaled slowly and ran a hand through her curls. Both witches sat silently, unmoving as they waited for her to continue.

"Merlin, I've never been so relieved and horrified in my life. We spent a week there… I tried on six occasions to un-do my spellwork, but nothing worked. I thought I had lost them."

Angrily, Hermione swiped at a tear that escaped from one eye and took another breath. Her mind was swimming with memories of that god-awful week she had spent on the beach in Perth, crying on Ron's shoulder as they worked out what to do. Never before had she felt so utterly helpless.

"Finally, on the seventh try, I succeeded. I brought them back…and then w-we cried. All of us. I was so worried that my parents were going to hate me, but with Ron's help we managed to explain everything and... d-do you know w-what they told me?"

Hermione paused, her hands curling into fists as the dam within her threatened to break.

"They said that they were proud of me…" The words came out as a whisper and suddenly Hermione's vision blurred, and her next inhale became a shuddering sob.

"They said they were _proud_. Holy fucking Helga, can you understand that? I _took_ away their goddamn memories… I changed their lives… stole their agency… their identities… their only _child_ for God's sake and then they… th-they told me they were proud!"

Leaning forward, Hermione folded her forehead onto her hands and cried in earnest. Hot, steaming tears poured from her eyes, splattering the table beneath her and dripping onto the soft silk of her robes below. Distantly, she felt long fingers combing through her curls, soothing her slightly even as her body struggled to bring her back to equilibrium.

"Gods… I'm sorry. I just… I still can't believe that. I can't believe them," Hermione whispered, wiping her cheeks violently even as her face flushed with a combination of emotion, embarrassment, and pent up rage.

Rage at Voldemort.

The Ministry.

The War… all the ridiculous and ungodly reasons she had been forced to violate her own parents in such a cruel and terrible manner.

"They wanted to stay," she continued after a moment, still unable to lift her gaze. "They thanked me… so I helped them transition easier. They live in Perth now, near the beach - they love the ocean… and so I set up a series of blood wards to protect them. And now _no one_ will touch them ever again. _No one._ "

Hermione waited for a moment, her pulse still thumping loudly in her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to will her heartbeat and breath back to normal. _Focus…_

For a moment, there was an eerie sort of silence and even the waves below seemed to respect her passionate outburst.

Then there was a strange series of murmured of words and Hermione looked up in surprise to see Master Kallas crying softly. At once, Hermione felt a combination of shock, awe, guilt, and no small amount of fear as silvery tears poured down dark cheeks and she watched in horrified fascination as her steadfast, enigmatic master appeared to be struggling to maintain control over her own emotions.

Hermione felt another shock at realizing that Minerva was holding on to one of her master's forearms and rubbing it in an apparent gesture of solidarity.

"Hermione, darling… I am so proud of you. Truly…" Her master's voice was thick and nearly unrecognizable, her accent catching in a manner that Hermione had never before heard. Master Kallas bit her lip and Hermione felt a wave of crippling emotion wash over her before, abruptly, it disappeared.

She gasped at the loss of sensation, one hand already blindly reaching for her master's reassurance but the smaller witch managed to rise smoothly and slip out of her grasp.

"If you would excuse me for a moment," Master Kallas whispered softly, already rounding the table in a soft swish of ivory silk. Minerva nodded quietly, her focus remaining somewhere between her wineglass and the center of the table.

"I… don't understand," Hermione whispered, watching her master's small form retreat indoors. Searching inwards, she couldn't detect the thread of connection that bound her to Master Kallas. It was as if she didn't exist.

Minerva shifted and fixed Hermione with a sad expression.

"It seems Diamantina need a moment to recover," she said unhelpfully. Hermione felt her temper swell, even as a separate thread of panic began to bloom.

"What do you mean? _What was that?_ " Hermione demanded, gesturing toward the witch's empty chair. Minerva refused to look at her. "I don't feel her! Minerva… why can't I feel her?"

As her voice rose, Minerva held up a hand.

"Peace, Hermione. She's likely Occluding."

"What?" It came out sharper than she intended, but Hermione was still struggling to understand. _What did I do? What happened?_

Minerva took a deep inhale and settled back, drawing her wineglass toward the edge of the table.

"I fear I may overstep my boundaries with you at this time, Hermione," she began. "But… I also worry that Diamantina may never divulge the relevant information that you will need to support one another."

Green eyes flicked up to look at her seriously; Hermione's brow furrowed but she remained silent and nodded her understanding. Her mind was still reeling from the strange outburst and her master's abrupt disappearance. _Surely, Master Kallas is more adept at reigning in her empathy than that!_

"In order to understand your master's reaction, you must understand her personal history… and, like many of us who were involved in the First Wizarding war, her own history is quite tragic."

Hermione felt a low thrum of foreboding in her stomach, but she nodded her understanding.

Minerva watched her for a moment longer, features drawn into a stoic expression… and Hermione had to wonder if the utter lack of emotion belied the seriousness of whatever she was about to hear.

A moment later, the witch sighed.

"Diamantina Kallas first applied to apprentice beneath me in 1972. She was young, brilliant… much like you, in fact. She had already completed her first few classifications in America for Potions, and she was the youngest person in the history of Greek Wizardry to serve on the Hellenic Council," Minerva smiled at the memory and Hermione's heart fluttered lightly even as she wiped at a few stray tears on her cheeks.

"I was in my late thirties when I received her résumé. At the time I thought I was far too young to begin teaching Mastery students, but as you can imagine Albus Dumbledore insisted. I accepted a young wizard before Diamantina… equally brilliant and talented, but not as disciplined. He did not live up to my expectations and only remained at Hogwarts for one year."

Hermione nodded again even as her eyes slid toward the brightly lit windows of the villa… hoping, _willing_ her master to return.

"A year later, I accepted Diamantina." At the change of tone, Hermione looked back to see Minerva gazing off toward the coast, a wistful expression gracing her features.

"Unlike her predecessor, she took to my style immediately. She was both passionate and refined. We challenged each other in many complementary ways. For the first three years of our arrangement, everything went as outlined. And then later we… grew close," Minerva paused and took a sip of wine, swirling the remaining liquid in her glass absently even as her eyes appeared to dim slightly as she retreated into her memories.

Hermione listened, afraid of moving or startling Minerva from her reminiscing. The candlelight seemed to soften the heaviness of the conversation and she waited… watching as another layer of the enigmatic Headmistress seemed to fall away.

"As you can imagine, however… things grew more complicated as the War progressed. Unlike this past time which was far more subtle and insidious, the First War was conducted in the open. Acts of violence were common. Fear was rampant and it was difficult to know just whom to trust."

Minerva's lips twisted slightly and with a flash of intuition, Hermione gathered that the witch still harboured a great amount of regret.

"Diamantina joined the Order of the Phoenix after following my example. I assured her I did not expect it of her, but she insisted. After all, she said, it was a European War… and she wanted to do her part to ensure her friends and family remained safe."

Hermione wet her lips, suddenly afraid of how the story would end.

"Unfortunately, it was not to be. A great many people died through a combination of attacks, confrontations, and mistaken alliances. Molly Weasley lost her brothers. Harry Potter lost his parents. I lost my youngest brother and his wife. And then... it was Diamantina's turn."

Hermione felt her heart break, and once again felt a great pressure behind her eyes as tears began to sting, just out of reach.

"You must understand that, for her generation, Diamantina was much like you. Heralded as one of the best and brightest… and while she had made impressive strides that brought many accolades, it also garnered the attention of the opposite side."

Minerva's face twisted again and Hermione thought she saw a shadow of bitterness or anger pass over aristocratic features. And then at once, it was again smooth.

"Diamantina was betrayed by close friends of ours and subsequently captured. At the time our bond was similar to what I assume she currently shares with you, and as a result… as her Master I was bound to protect her. However, Voldemort's allies were well aware of our relationship and rather than threatening her life directly, they managed to use her family against her. I was helpless to assist until it was too late."

Hermione heard a sharp inhale and belatedly realized it was her own breath. Another shadow crossed Minerva's features and the witch lifted an elegant hand to rub one temple softly.

"Without going into detail, I will simply say that in the aftermath of all the violence... Diamantina was presented with a choice. She chose to leave the Order and return to Greece, where by all accounts, the environment was significantly safer. We ended our Mastery agreement with an understanding of our own that has prevailed until today."

Minerva sat forward suddenly and pinned Hermione with a direct and harsh gaze. The piercing emerald eyes seemed to cut through her tumultuous thoughts... and at once, Hermione's cheeks were burning again. This time however Hermione lifted her chin and after a moment, Minerva appeared to accept whatever expression she saw represented there.

"I do not fault her for leaving the War and nor should you, Hermione… as I imagine it has taken her a significant number of years to heal from the trauma she was dealt." The Scottish lilt seemed heavy and tired, and Minerva reached forward and quickly drained her glass as Hermione sat quietly, her heart aching even as her mind struggled to process the terrible narrative she had just been told.

 _Her family_ … Gods. Everything that Hermione had wanted to prevent for her own parents had happened for Master Kallas. _No wonder she had to leave…_

At once, Hermione felt a wave of crippling guilt pass through her as she realized just how terrible it must have been for her master to listen to her memories… and then to have been faced with the stark reality of her own experiences.

 _What if she never heard those words… 'we're proud of you…' What if she never felt she could atone for what she lost?_

Another trickle of tears began making its way down her cheeks and Hermione sat immobile, her thoughts a terrible spiral of her own experiences and the imaginings of whatever had happened to her own master.

"Hush, darling. It is past."

Startled, Hermione looked up with bright eyes to see Master Kallas standing behind Minerva's chair, one hand resting on the shoulder of their shared mentor even as she gazed at Hermione with an expression of beatific tranquility. Glancing down, she saw that Minerva's expression was not quite as calm. The shadow of pain echoing within the clear emerald gaze seemed to spur her into action.

"Master…"

Unable to stop herself, Hermione quickly rose and circled the table to envelop the smaller witch in a fierce embrace. At once their bond reasserted itself and the ache in her chest was instantly soothed by a wave of contentment, peace, and calm. She tried to communicate her sense of solidarity… her utmost belief in the strong witch that Master Kallas had become, and her utter devotion toward protecting their connection, their bond… _her witch_ , her mind quickly supplied.

"Shhh. All is past, my darlings…" Hermione felt her master shift and realized that the witch had opened one side of her body to pull Minerva up to standing.

The taller witch moved out from her place at the table delicately, eyes averted as she allowed her former students a moment of their own. However, a moment later… spurred by some sort of internal impulse, Hermione stepped forward.

Green eyes widened as she took the beautiful sculpted cheeks in both hands and quickly drew herself upwards...

At once, there was a spark… a sizzle of energy and time seemed to stop.

Soft, satiny lips met her own, sending a rush of heat through her body that pulsed straight to her center. Hermione heard her own light intake of air as she pulled away, immediately wanting to move back into the sensuous grasp of those soft, fluid lips… but resisting… and letting her fingers trail down the graceful, long neck and off narrow shoulders…

"Thank you, Minerva," she whispered, eyes opening directly into those endless emerald pools.

Somehow Hermione managed to step backward without stumbling, feeling a light thrum of pleasure through her bond even as those clear eyes blinked through confusion, shock, and something… _else_.

A moment later, Master Kallas stepped forward and then… Hermione felt a strange tingling sensation run through her body and a rather surreal, heady wave of heat as both of her mentors drew together...

Master Kallas bestowed her own kiss, theirs slightly longer and a bit… _different._

She felt another flush, this one having to do more with feeling like a voyeur as a dark hand cupped an ivory chin and tilted it carefully...

But then Hermione blinked, and they were again two.

Minerva smoothed a hand over her emerald robes, the fabric rippling across her torso in a manner that caused Hermione's eyes to zero in on the shapely curves...

"Perhaps that is enough excitement for one night," the elder witch husked and Hermione watched in fascination as the witch known as Minerva McGonagall somehow managed to draw herself inward, assembling her many mysterious layers, and re-cloaking herself in the mystique that Hermione recognized from years of schooling.

And despite the witch's alluring attire, the Headmistress of Hogwarts had reappeared…

And with a tinge of regret, Hermione knew their evening had drawn itself to a startling close.


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: Thank you for the feedback! We're moving toward the heart of things now..._

* * *

A wave of her hand ignited the fire and the flames leapt from the hearth in a familiar burst of warmth even as Minerva shivered.

Her office seemed impossibly quiet and as much as her body wished to return to her rooms and simply fall into the deepest depths of sleep to forget about her day, she could not.

"Albus?"

It was a quiet summons, but a summons nonetheless and Minerva looked up at the circle of portraits to find clear blue eyes gazing down at her solemnly. The surrounding portraits remained asleep… a few of them, such as Phineas and Severus, remaining conspicuously empty.

Minerva watched him for a moment, wondering again how such a powerful man could have left his legacy to her… before rounding her desk and sitting down with a not-so-subtle exhale of air. She closed her eyes against the wave of nausea that flooded through her.

"Shall I fetch Sylvie?"

"No, thank you. I have a potion awaiting in my chambers," she replied succinctly, taking a breath and crossing her legs carefully.

"I take it from your manner of dress that you went to see her this evening," Albus said softly, looking at her silken robes with a hint of sadness. Minerva fought the wave of nostalgia that rose at his comment and simply nodded. _What a strange trio we were..._

"I did."

"And? How is she?" Albus was watching her carefully, eyes briefly hidden by a sheen of his spectacles.

"Doing well. She has built a rather wonderful life for herself… I was pleased to hear of her work in both Athens and Thessaloniki, and though she will never admit it, it's clear she's garnered a rather impressive reputation for her Mastery curricula," Minerva shook her head and smiled lightly. "Indeed, it seems that Hermione is benefiting from her vast reservoirs of knowledge in a number of equally wonderful ways."

"Hermione?" The voice registered surprise.

"Miss Granger has grown into a lovely witch," Minerva said softly, amending the name even as her mind replayed the woman's charming laugh and the deep, soulful way she had grasped Diamantina at the end of the night.

 _That kiss..._

"You do not have to conceal your feelings, Minerva. It's perfectly understandable," Albus said easily, shifting absently even as he fiddled with something outside of the portrait frame.

"How do you mean?" The question came out a bit more defensively than she would have liked.

"You have always harboured a soft spot for _Hermione_ throughout the years, dear. I'm sure seeing her as an adult has shifted your perceptions of her. It's perfectly all right for you to view her in a different light," he replied, peering down at her over half-moon spectacles. Minerva fought the urge to scoff.

"That is beside the point, Albus," she replied tiredly, not wishing to engage in such foolish chatter. Her sternum ached. Carefully, Minerva took her memories of the young witch and shuttled them away into the organized chaos of her other thoughts.

"Is it?"

They let the statement hang in the air for a moment while Albus popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth and Minerva rested her eyes. Without opening them, she sighed… letting her head fall backward to rest against the back of the chair.

"Do you really believe I need to reinstate the Order, Albus?" she asked quietly. It was little more than a whisper.

"Yes, Minerva."

She opened her eyes to see her friend watching her patiently, his expression a tired mix of resolution and defeat. He looked down at her seriously and Minerva felt her stomach swim with the weight of unmade choices.

"I shall consider it," she replied softly, already knowing that the die had already been cast.

"That's all I ask, Tabby."

With a tired wave of her hand, the lights went out.

* * *

Hermione was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with her hips even as her eyes gazed out the bay windows unseeingly.

Dia sighed internally, still berating herself for losing control of her emotions after dinner. _This is the second time in two days, Diamantina. First with Ana, now with Hermione. This is unacceptable._

"Master?" The quiet plea tugged at her heart and she found herself turning.

"Yes, darling?"

"I apologize for upsetting you…" The statement was so soft that Dia had to strain to hear it, and abruptly she shielded the witch from the spiral of her own embarrassment.

Smiling instead, she crossed the kitchen and placed a reassuring hand on the witch's shoulder.

"There is nothing to apologize for, Hermione," Dia said honestly. "Your story and actions resonated more strongly than I had anticipated… you displayed immense bravery and foresight regarding the safety and protection of your parents. I can only imagine how difficult a decision it was to make and then carry out. I am incredibly happy that you found them and managed to restore all that was lost."

There was a long pause while Dia waited, unsure of what to make of the stormy emotions flooding the younger witch before her.

"Min…. Minerva explained some things to me," Hermione admitted quietly, caramel eyes suddenly fixing her with a penitent expression. _Ah, Athena..._

"I know, darling. I appreciate her consideration," Dia murmured, drawing the witch into a gentle embrace. Though she was a bit shorter than Hermione, their bodies fit together comfortably… resting against one another in a shared moment of warmth.

She sighed softly.

"It is I who should be sorry, my darling… there are parts of my life for which I have yet to find resolution. It is not your fault that they reassert themselves from time to time."

The younger witch shifted and Dia looked down to see a honey-colored hand gently take her darker one. A glance upwards found her apprentice's brow furrowed in concentration as she rubbed small circles on Dia's palm. The sensation was pleasant.

"I know that you know that I came here to escape from my past…" Hermione began, her voice little more than a whisper. "I just… Thank you for allowing me my privacy."

Rather than respond to the curious statement nor delve into a different conversation that was perhaps too potent for the evening, Dia simply squeezed Hermione's hand gently.

"I am always here should you wish to talk about it, Hermione." She drew the hand up to her lips and pressed a light kiss on the back of tanned knuckles and looked up to see caramel eyes gazing at her through a sea of unshed tears.

" _Always._ "

* * *

"Minister, might I have a word?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked up from a report to see Sturgis Podmore standing in his doorway, features inscrutable in the dying light of the candles.

"Sturgis!" He called in surprise. "Come in, come in…"

He waved the man over even as he scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly realizing just how long he had been staring at the sheaf of parchments before him. Squinting at the clock he bit back his surprise.

"Is it close to ten-thirty already? What in Merlin's name are you still doing here anyway, Podmore? Maria will have my head if she thinks I've been keeping you here on overtime," he chuckled.

The blond wizard fixed him with an serious expression and Kingsley felt the good-natured smile dissolve from his face. He furrowed a brow as the tall man sat forward, an almost paranoid expression crossing his features.

"Kingsley… I need to talk to you," Sturgis' voice was low, and his hands, briefly steepled on the tops of his knees opened into a beseeching gesture. Kingsley frowned.

"What's happening, my friend? You look like you've seen a ghost." The light joke fell flat as Sturgis winced and looked around the room.

"Is your office secure?" At that Kingsley sat back, fixing his friend with a concerned expression even as he felt the atmosphere draw in upon them with a weight that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Is it secure?" Sturgis sat forward, his eyes wide and the last word came out as a hiss. Kingsley felt his temper rise slightly, tired beyond all belief and irritated by his friend's apparently random burst of paranoia.

"Yes! Gods, man… of course it's secure! I have Aurors sweeping my office three time a day. I inspect it myself after every check," he said vehemently, tossing a hand in Sturgis' direction. Fluffing his robes, he took a breath.

At his outburst, the wizard fell back in his chair… running a heavy hand over his face as he fixed Kingsley with a sorrowful expression, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Merlin, forgive me…" he murmured. Before Kingsley could ask, Sturgis sat forward again, appearing to take a deep breath.

"Kingsley… how long have we known each other?" he asked quietly.

"Over thirty years, my friend. But what does-"

"Have you ever known me to make light of something serious?"

Kingsley's brow furrowed. His friend's typically cheerful blue gaze was solemn.

"No," he answered slowly. "I have not."

"Then I need you to trust me on this, my friend… I… don't know who I can turn to." Kingsley caught the subtle waver in his friend's resonant tones and unexpectedly it caused a tremor of fear within him. Sturgis was leaning forward again, running a tense hand through thick blond hair… looking like a picture of defeat.

"What is happening, Sturgis?" Kingsley asked quietly. He had never seen his friend so bent out of shape. Not since the height of the War.

"I… have reason to believe that there are people within the Ministry who are tied to the international violations that happened earlier this week," he stated softly. Kingsley stilled.

"How do you mean?" Kingsley's voice was dangerously low. Sturgis pinned him with a meaningful look, but he simply shook his head and repeated himself. "How. Do. You. _Mean?_ "

This was no small accusation and the wizard across from him knew it.

Following the War, Kingsley had vetted every single employee in the Ministry of Magic.

Every. Single. One.

It had taken months of inquiry. Bottles of Veritaserum. The Wizengamot had run themselves ragged and the Minister's office had fielded harsh criticism from the press, public, within, as everyone tried to wrap their minds around a complete overhaul of the Ministry's internal structures and systems.

The Daily Prophet had condemned him as a harbinger of the end of democracy. There had been protesters lining the Floo Entrances for months until finally he had to decree that all guests were required to submit their formal agenda with aides upon arrival. It had been a nightmare.

The trials had taken their toll on everyone, but miraculously, his insane plan had worked. _It worked._ The final reports had just been submitted a month previous and for the first time in months… years… _decades,_ perhaps... everyone had breathed easier at realizing that they had managed to rebuild a broken system.

 _Not rebuild…_ he thought absently. That was still in process. _Validate_ everyone's belief in a clean Ministry that existed for the good of the people, whose actions and responses would be a clear nod to the path of Light.

And now?

Kingsley sat forward, attempting to reign in his anger and emotions even as Sturgis continued to shake his head.

"I know. _I know_ , Kingsley." At once his friend was standing, pacing behind the two chairs on the other side of the desk, both hands coming to rake through his hair.

"Don't you think I've considered how this _looks?_ My gods, man… we've just put the overhaul to rest. I've wracked my brain for the last two days, but I just can't come up with any sort of explanation that isn't essentially… well, _Dark._ "

"Sturgis. What is it that you think you know?" Kingsley asked patiently.

"Someone created several unauthorized copies of the Ministry's Economic and Defense outlines. Details about the Floo Network, Emergency Anti-Apparition nets, Oblivating procedures, even a number of personnel records… Everything. I have record that the copies were made late on Monday night, but I don't know where they _are_ , Kingsley."

Sturgis stopped and stared at him, one hand extended… his entire posture begging Kingsley to understand. And Merlin, did he.

"Who else knows?" Kingsley asked in a level voice. _Let's take this one step at time._

"No one," Sturgis replied after a moment. His blue gaze dropped as he quickly returned to his original seat with a defeated huff. "Just me and whoever is responsible."

"Sturgis… I have to ask. How were you made aware of this?" Kingsley lifted an eyebrow even as his friend gave him a bewildered look.

"I came in early on Tuesday morning. Maria's been gone all week visiting her brother, so without her to prepare breakfast, I've just been grabbing coffee and picking something up on the way," Sturgis gave a mirthless chuckle before sitting forward and walking through his morning with clear gestures.

"When I came into the office… I noticed that a number of files were askew. They're in an area that we haven't touched in awhile, so I went to fix them out of curiosity," the wizard's lips twisted into a wry sort of grimace. "I don't know what made me think to do it, but I just felt an instinct. So I cast a quick diagnostic charm… and there it was. The evidence."

The man sighed heavily before looking at Kingsley again. "Those were just a few files. But it made me wonder... So then I opened more files. Same thing. More. Same thing. Whoever did this managed to copy more than five-hundred official documents without setting off the alarms. Which means, it's-"

"Someone on the inside," Kingsley finished.

"Someone _high up_ on the inside," Sturgis amended.

This was… _beyond_ bad. While Kingsley didn't recall the particulars of the exact files mentioned, it was clear that whomever had created copies was looking for a broad range of information regarding the Ministry's operating systems. The Auror side in him was already calculating the odds of intel... in the wrong hands, the entire Ministry could be left defenseless, their own procedures, spellwork, systems used against them.

"I have my suspicions on who it could be, but… there's nothing concrete. Nothing to trace an identity," Sturgis said defeatedly.

At once, Kingsley was irate. Shaking his head he swore through gritted teeth and then dropped a heavy hand on the desk, causing his friend to jump.

"This is not the time, Sturgis!" he hissed, even as the man pulled back in surprise.

Feeling a brief pang of guilt, Kingsley quickly glance toward the door, suddenly fearful of prying eyes. With a wave of his wand he swore the portraits to secrecy, even as he saw Phineas start unpleasantly and pin him with a murderous glare. _He'll get over it._

Leaning forward, Kingsley felt his resolve harden.

"Unless you can bring me concrete proof, my hands are tied," he growled. Seeing Sturgis' shocked expression he opened his hands in sympathy. "I'm sorry, my friend. But there's nothing I can do… if this gets out… _Merlin_ …"

Kingsley swiped his hat off and ran a hand over his head, taking a deep breath. He needed a stiff drink.

"I need you to handle this, Sturgis. Quickly and quietly. Use whatever resources you need - you can send the particulars directly to me, but I trust that you'll keep this between us," he commanded softly. Sturgis was nodding, his expression grim. "I wish I could spare you the extra wands, but this is bad timing, my friend. Bad, bad timing…"

Sturgis watched as Kingsley shook his head in disbelief. Thinking hard, he considered what his options were. There weren't many.

"The most I can do is order a re-evaluation of the compromised information… perhaps re-route it through another department under budgetary concerns, but there's little I can do on my end without drawing attention to the situation. This falls to you, now. I need you to uncover who made those copies and do so discreetly and without drawing attention to yourself. Do you understand?"

"I understand, sir."

They looked at each other for a long moment before Sturgis rose smoothly.

"Thank you for hearing me out, Kingsley."

"Of course, my friend." Kingsley stood, reaching across the desk to give the wizard a solid handshake. He took his other hand and clasped it on top.

"And Sturgis?" The man looked up, his expression unreadable.

"Watch your six." The blue eyes crinkled into a smile and Sturgis gave a firm nod. A moment later he was cocking his head, blond hair catching the candlelight… and Kingsley saw a glimpse of the brash young man who had gone through the Academy with him.

"You know how I do, old man. Catch 'em quick, sock 'em hard…"

"Then boom, boom."

They grinned at each other for a moment before Sturgis stepped back, adjusting his robes quickly and running a hand through his hair in a familiar gesture.

"'Night Kings," he said, lips twisting into a half-smile.

Kingsley sat, pulling another report forward as his lifted his chin in reply. Sturgis left quickly, the door closing with a quiet click.

For a moment all was quiet and then Kingsley sniffed, shaking his head.

"Good night, old friend."


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: Best laid plans..._

* * *

Minerva rose from her desk as the clock chimed half past the hour, striding toward the hearth even as her fireplace began to glow green with an impending Floo call.

The morning had passed quickly in a haze of reports, budgetary concerns, and exchanging owls as she had striven to smooth over the bumps of the last several days. It had been difficult to rise from her bed at six and while Sylvie had already given her one pain potion, Minerva felt the weight of recent events more intensely than she had anticipated.

Waving a hand, she quickly locked her office door to ensure there would be no interruptions before coming to stand before the fireplace even as an elderly witch's face popped into the flames.

Madam Peronne Hesperia was a Professor Emerita of Ilvermorny, having held the post of Transfiguration for a number of years before retiring nearly a decade previous. Minerva had met her infrequently during Society events and read her work in several editions of _Transfiguration Today_. She had been surprised to receive the witch's correspondence… even further when the elder woman had demanded a private Floo call.

When earlier events of the week had interrupted her schedule, Hesperia had even gone so far as to indicate she would be willing to accommodate the time difference on Minerva's behalf.

Whatever the witch wished to communicate, it appeared to be urgent.

"Madam Hesperia… a pleasure," Minerva said, with a tinge more enthusiasm than she felt. The white-haired witch fixed her with a smile that looked closer to a grimace; the emerald flames gave her pale skin a strange, unearthly pallor.

"I'll beg you to forgive me, Madam McGonagall, if I dispense with the pleasantries for a moment?" Hesperia gave her with a pained expression and Minerva took it in stride, responding with a gracious nod. The slight Southern American accent caught her off-guard.

"By all means, as they hold little interest," Minerva replied evenly. _Thank Merlin for small miracles._

From what little she could see, the witch visibly relaxed. The bright blue eyes raked the room quickly and Minerva gathered that the woman was leaning forward slightly.

"I came to deliver a warning," Hesperia said softly, voice barely carrying over the crackle of the flames. Minerva shifted, frowning slightly as she tilted her head.

"I can assure you that Hogwarts is indeed secure, so long as you can vouch for yourself?" She replied, answering the witch's unspoken question. Madam Hesperia closed her eyes briefly before nodding.

"I am speaking to you from Ilvermorny at the moment. As you know, we keep our own hearths free of the MACUSA General Network. May I pass a parchment?"

"Please."

A moment later, the emerald flames leapt slightly and Minerva's reflexes responded quickly as a rolled letter was spat from the hearth. She unrolled it carefully as Hesperia continued.

"I'll get right down to business, Madam. Perhaps you have heard… but as of earlier this week, a former student of mine has gone missing in Central America. Her name is Elizabeth Waterhouse and the current story is that she was lost during an archaeological dig in Guatemala."

Minerva glanced at the parchment which contained a copy of a Muggle newspaper article and a few runes scratched alongside in elegant cursive script.

"I know the name…" Minerva said, trying to put a face to the witch in question. Hesperia gave a sad smile.

"She completed her first classification in Transfiguration beneath me a very long time ago. Nearly twenty years, in fact. Lovely woman, brilliant witch… but eventually she discovered that her true passion lay in the realm of archaeology. She is well known in both the Magical and No-Maj worlds," Hesperia explained. Minerva nodded, lifting her chin and quickly reading the elder witch's concern.

"You do not believe her disappearance to be an accident," she deduced. Hesperia's face fell.

"I do not. Elizabeth was - _is_ … a leader in her field. An absolute genius with an intuitive sensibility… Madam, I've never seen anything like it. She's uncovered twelve lost settlements throughout Central America the last decade. _Twelve!_ "

The witch fixed her with an imploring look. Minerva nodded, brow furrowing as she attempted to understand what the situation had to do with her.

"Forgive me for being blunt, but how do you imagine that I can help?" she asked. The witch sniffed humorlessly.

"Yes…" Hesperia's hand appeared momentarily and smoothed back a strand of brilliant white hair that had come free from her twist. "I do not imagine you can help with the search. Either Elizabeth is in hiding and fending for herself. Or she is dead. These are the only two outcomes I can foresee."

Minerva frowned. There were a significant number of other outcomes that she could have foreseen, but Madam Hesperia seemed adamant. _Suspend judgment until all the pieces are on the board, old girl._

"I have reason to believe, however… that a former apprentice of _yours_ may have been involved."

At that, Minerva's heart dropped. She had only ever had two apprentices and it certainly wasn't about to be Diamantina.

"Petrus." The name came out as a whisper and Minerva felt her eyes widen even as Madam Hesperia looked at her in sympathy. _Oh Merlin… Petrus, no..._

"I _am_ sorry, Madam McGonagall. But I happen to know that his wand signature was recorded by Guatemalan Aurors in a city not fifty miles from where Elizabeth went missing. It seems your former apprentice engaged in some sort of bar fight a day or so previous. A most curious coincidence."

"What is being done about the entire situation?" Minerva asked softly, mind still swimming with the implications. _How does this connect?_

"At the moment, the MACUSA has sent investigators down to Guatemala, but the results are not promising. Elizabeth's archaeological team was entirely made up of No-Maj scholars - she preferred to work with No-Majs… said they were more intuitive and less likely to defer to magic whenever things got rough. She was… _is_ a tough old broad. I am still trying to keep up hope that she's managed to evade her aggressors, but the investigation appears to have reached a dead end."

"Have the Aurors linked Petrus to Elizabeth's disappearance?" Minerva asked, fearing either answer.

"They have not. I did my own parallel investigation upon learning of Elizabeth's disappearance. I have yet to inform anyone else of what I have learned. You sprang to mind immediately and I have it on good authority from Nyzette that you are connected in ways that may potentially result in swift action. You should know that your efforts during your most recent War did not go unnoticed. Nyzette assures me you are a witch of remarkable honor."

"I shall have to thank Nyzette for her kind words," Minerva paused… unsure of how to make her request without appearing self-serving. _Best to be honest._ "Madam Hesperia… while it is not my intention to obfuscate your discovery, I wonder-"

Before she could finish her sentence, the white-haired witch held up a hand and Minerva paused in surprise.

"You have my assurances, Madam McGonagall that the information I have just shared with you will remain in confidence. I imagine you have resources that can stretch well beyond my scope, and anyway I have little love for the MACUSA as they have done much to restrict the investigation and little to help. I will gladly provide you with additional information if you feel it may help."

Hesperia dropped her hand, her expression resolute as she looked at Minerva trustingly. Meanwhile, Minerva had to resist the urge to step backwards in shock.

"I… Thank you, Madam for your vote of confidence. I shall do my best to relay your findings to the appropriate authorities. Please believe me when I say that I hold little love for those who have chosen the pathway of Darkness. If Petrus is involved, he _will_ be held accountable," Minerva replied, attempting to infuse her words with her own conviction. _Merlin, if you were involved in this Petrus..._

"Thank you, Madam McGonagall. My greatest concern of course, is uncovering the truth on behalf of Elizabeth." Madam Hesperia's eyes grew bright and Minerva nodded her sympathy. Briefly she considered how many students she had lost to violence over the years. _It never gets easier._

The fire crackled for a moment and Minerva's brow furrowed as she reviewed the available information.

"Madam, forgive my impertinence… but do you know why Elizabeth would have been targeted?"

At that, the witch's expression darkened.

"You know, I've asked myself the same question over the course of the last few days. Beyond the fact that she was a strong and talented witch, I have to imagine it was because of her latest research." Hesperia paused and she momentarily twisted in the flames to look at something out of sight.

"I do not know what she uncovered… but she had written me a few weeks previous to tell me she was on the trail of something rather exciting. The article touches on a few suppositions, but I don't believe any of them to be accurate."

"Do you have your own theories?" Minerva asked, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms.

"It was not in the nature of my relationship with Elizabeth to discuss either of our research in great detail. We have maintained regular correspondence throughout the years and still attempt to see each other when we can, but our disciplines are very different." The witch sighed and suddenly looked as fatigued as Minerva felt.

"However… when last we spoke, Elizabeth mentioned that she had uncovered an obscure manuscript that appeared to mention… or at least reference the existence of Wizards within an Ancient Maya religious circle. Such a revelation would be ground-breaking as there have long been oral traditions mentioning or at least preserving Magical memory, but no concrete physical evidence of their existence."

"And you believe this manuscript would have been worth her… life?" Minerva paused at the end, unsure of how to phrase the question delicately but Hesperia merely breezed past the intimation.

"Elizabeth indicated that it was a heavily coded document. I do not know the details, but it was her belief that the manuscript was to be read like a map… and that if it could be interpreted _correctly_ , one would follow the map and discover an ancient Wizarding city of the Mayan people."

"That _would be_ ground-breaking, indeed," Minerva said thoughtfully, mind reeling with the implications. "But… do you really believe Petrus D'Artagnan or others would have harmed her for this?"

"Now here is where I delve into the realm of pure speculation, Madam McGonagall…" The witch leaned forward and fixed her with a serious gaze. "Call it instinct or intuition, or the mad musings of an old witch…"

Hesperia closed her eyes for a moment before moving forward again.

"I believe that Elizabeth's intuition was indeed correct. But that, not only was she about to uncover a lost Wizarding stronghold… but a Necromantic one at that."

Minerva stilled even as her thoughts returned to the conversation she had overheard at the emergency convocation. _There are no such things as coincidence._

"I understand, Madam," she replied, somewhat distantly. The witch's eyes narrowed perceptively.

"Yes… I believe you do."

They gazed at each other for another long moment before Minerva glanced down at the article in her hand again. It was a Muggle article and the witch gazing back at her was frozen mid-laugh, her hair spilling over one shoulder, eyes sparkling as if she had all the time in the world.

"Then we are understood?"

Minerva felt Madam Hesperia watching her carefully, and she lifted her head even as she inhaled sharply.

"We are. Thank you for the message, Madam." Minerva gave her a brusque nod and the witch moved back slightly, her eyes somewhat lidded.

"Thank you for your time, Madam McGonagall. I hope the situation presents itself soon."

There was a small _pop!_ and Hesperia disappeared, leaving Minerva staring into curling flames that slowly returned to a familiar gold and amber.

For a long moment she remained, replaying bits of the conversation in her thoughts and extrapolating outwards until she held a map of the world in her mind with small pinpricks wherever she felt a flash of intuition. _Río… Barcelona… Guatemala…_ They were all so spread out.

And then there were the players. _Petrus… Waterhouse… Theodotus…_

Points on a globe and players on a chessboard.

 _It makes no sense!_

 _Unless…_

Minerva felt her heart still as the images in her mind rearranged themselves.

"Albus?"

She turned slowly, her eyes lifting toward the circle of portraits where the blue eyes of her friend were gazing down at her impassively. _No, knowingly..._

The room seemed absurdly silent and Minerva felt as though her heartbeat somehow pulsed through the thickened air, even as the stone in the pit of her stomach seemed to pull her downward with the weight of her impending decisions.

"Forgive me my petty concerns and naïveté," she whispered. "You were right."

Albus took a deep breath and sat back, giving her a long look down his crooked nose even as she felt her eyes grow moist. _Merlin help us…_

"Nothing to forgive, my dear. At least now... we have more to offer by way of explanation," he replied gravely. The other portraits watched solemnly as Minerva walked a few steps closer, her heeled boots falling heavy as if they were made of lead.

"Albus… I don't know if I can do this." The pained admission came out as little more than a whisper and Minerva dropped her chin in shame.

She was too tired. Too old. Too weary…

The grandfather clock's tick suddenly caught her attention, marking the passage of time resolutely even as she waited for her friend's answer.

"You must, Tabby."

The silence stretched longer, separated by neatly counted seconds… numbering themselves upward even as the entire room waited for Minerva's response with a collectively held breath.

"It shall be done."

* * *

Hermione awoke to an insistent tapping on her forehead.

Sputtering slightly, she waved her hands defensively… her eyes squinting as she absorbed a burst of gold sunshine, rows of books…

Which meant… _Damn._

Snapping upright, Hermione realized she had fallen asleep midway through reading a reference text on quantum mechanics. Muttering a number of curses under her breath, she blinked at the bright noon light streaming over the sofa and her spread of books and parchments.

Twisting slightly, she froze when she realized that a separate parchment was hanging in her field of vision, twitching slightly as it waited for her acknowledgement. Quickly she deduced that it had been the source of her rude awakening.

Hermione grasped it in confusion, her thoughts freezing for a moment as her eyes absorbed her name written on the front in an all-too-familiar hand. Despite herself, she felt her heart leap.

 _Why would she be writing?_

She tore open the unfamiliar seal… pausing a moment at realizing it was Minerva's personal one - overlapping M's against the silhouette of a lion. She felt her lips curl into a soft smile.

However a moment later, her brief happiness dissolved as she read the letter's contents.

 _Hermione Granger,_

 _I regret to interrupt your morning, however recent world events have brought to light new developments that I believe will evolve into a threat demanding of our time and attention. I have been presented with enough significant evidence to suggest that the Order of the Phoenix should be reinstated - heretofore advancing against the armies and influence of Lord Voldemort and now to counter a threat of perhaps even greater magnitude._

 _It is with great reluctance that I call you from your daily life and beseech you to render aid._

 _The first meeting of the Third Order of the Phoenix will convene tomorrow evening, Friday, November 19, 1999 at 19:00, local time._

 _This parchment will serve as a Portkey. Please ensure you have it upon your person should you agree to answer the summons._

 _Respectfully,_  
 _Minerva McGonagall_

Hermione sat back, stunned… eyes traveling over the impersonal message without truly seeing it.

It was clearly a letter Minerva had sent out to all the others… Distantly, she wondered how the witch had charmed it to bypass the Kefalas warding.

Opening it again, Hermione read it a second time… brow furrowing as her lips mouthed the words, "threat of even greater magnitude." _What does that mean?_

She felt tendrils of fear snake across her skin, even as the warm sunlight continued to spill across her back from the beautiful day just beyond the tall Library windows. _Surely she would have mentioned something last night…_

Her heart stilled as she considered the possibility that perhaps Minerva _had_ been thinking about reinstating the Order. But that something new had transpired to spur her into action. _Good Godric… what has happened?_

"Darling? Is everything alright?"

Hermione jumped, her wand already at the ready as Master Kallas suddenly appeared around the bookshelves, her dark brows drawn together in concern. The witch looked at her wandtip in surprise, her features momentarily betraying a bit of shock before they smoothed into a calm expression as she stepped forward a bit more slowly.

Hermione sat back against the sofa cushions with a huff, hastily stowing her wand even as she saw her master pass a careful glance over the letter in her hands. Bizarrely, her first urge was to hide it.

"I… don't know," she replied honestly, suddenly realizing that she was trembling. Master Kallas came closer, one hand already reaching for Hermione's shoulders as she made to sit next to her.

Unexpectedly, Hermione flinched away from the gentle touch and she felt her cheeks flush as she looked away in embarrassment. _Why are you being so skittish?_

Undeterred, the witch simply sat next to her, shifting a few books aside even as she made a clear effort not to touch Hermione.

"What is that?" Master Kallas asked after a moment, nodding toward the letter.

Hermione passed it over, watching carefully as her master's eyes took in the familiar script and opened it. The porcelain features betrayed no emotion as the light eyes read.

"I see."

"That's it?" Hermione blurted. _She sees? There's a threat out there that might be bigger than Voldemort and she sees?_

Master Kallas looked up, her light gaze open and searching.

"What is your intention?" the witch asked neutrally. Strangely, the question made her feel worse. Irritated, even. Hermione sat back and crossed her arms defensively.

"I… don't know. I'm still trying to process it. I assume she sent it to everyone else back home… I'd imagine they might know more, but maybe not," Hermione answered, thinking out loud. _You didn't answer.  
_

Looking back at her master, she saw the witch was sitting somewhat stiffly. Piercing seafoam eyes remained blank. Waiting.

"What do you want me to say?" Hermione asked. Master Kallas' eyes narrowed slightly, but she remained unmoved.

"This is your decision, Hermione," the musical voice replied neutrally. Again, Hermione felt an irrational flare of irritation.

"What kind of answer is that?" she demanded, knowing that her features were already settling into a glare. Master Kallas' gaze faltered for a moment and her full lips twisted slightly.

"What would _you_ like me to say, Hermione?" she asked quietly.

At that, Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears and suddenly the hot burst of anger and irritation abruptly dissolved.

Her legs, which had been crossed on the sofa, uncrossed themselves of their own accord and Hermione found herself leaning forward until she could rest her forehead on her mentor's narrow shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she felt her eyes swim even as she gazed down into ivory silk… exhaling and biting back, surprisingly, a sob.

"I don't know," she whispered.

A moment later, a gentle hand rose to stroke the back of her neck soothingly and the offending letter was shifted out of her sight line.

"As I said, darling. This is _your_ decision," Master Kallas whispered. Light seafoam eyes looked into hers imploringly, but behind the calm façade, Hermione thought she saw a glimmer of fear.

The witch sighed and shifted slightly, allowing Hermione to rest more of her body against her own.

"What are your first impressions of the situation?" Master Kallas asked. Hermione closed her eyes briefly and willed her emotions back into place… turning into their shared bond and drawing from her master's ineffable calm.

"That… Minerva would not have sent the summons if she did not believe it were true. To which, I know the majority… if not _all_ of my friends at home will respond. If I don't go, I… I don't think I could _not_ go," she said, thinking out loud. The hand that had been stroking her arm gently paused for a moment before resuming.

"What else?"

Hermione sighed. _This is turning into a lesson, isn't it?_

"I know that I don't feel ready," she said, sitting up slightly and turning to look at her Master more directly. "But, no one is ever ready for war. And that I know I am already far more prepared than I was last time…"

Master Kallas' expression remained inscrutable and somewhere deep inside, Hermione realized that she was afraid of the witch's reaction. A moment later however, she felt her hopes leap when full lips quirked into the ghost of a smile and the witch beside her took a deep breath.

"Then it seems we have a decision," she said softly. Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion. _We?_

"As your Master, I am charged with your protection, Hermione. We are bound. Whatever threatens you directly also threatens me," Master Kallas explained gently and Hermione felt a spiraling sensation in the pit of her stomach. _Merlin, you didn't even consider that… You didn't even think about her, did you? Oh Sweet Salazar..._

Before she could open her mouth to apologize, the witch placed a reassuring hand over hers.

"I would never think to interfere with your decision on this point, Hermione. However, I was tasked with your protection and I will uphold my end of that contract to the best of my ability," Master Kallas said.

Hermione dropped her gaze for a moment, suddenly realizing the complicated position she had placed her master in... but a moment later, Master Kallas was leaning forward, undoubtedly responding to the unspoken question swimming in her eyes.

"While I realize that sounds rather clinical and business-like, I am simply stating it so that we are in agreement about the parameters of our Mastery contract. However, I _assure_ you, darling... that even if we were _not_ bound, that statement would still ring true."

Dark fingers tilted her chin upwards and Hermione found herself caught in a brilliantly clear seafoam gaze.

"I care for you Hermione, and your continued safety and protection is of great importance to me. While it is entirely your decision, you do not have to endure it alone."

Hermione took a deep breath and again found herself willing unshed tears to remain in place.

"Master Kallas… I… I'm sorry," she breathed. Shaking her head, she felt her lower lip tremble. "I did not… think to consider the position I would be placing you in by accepting the summons. I… appreciate your words greatly."

Master Kallas smiled gently and gave her a single nod, but Hermione realized that the witch still held an aura of tension. Her master rubbed her arm lightly and made to rise, but Hermione placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You are still upset," she stated wonderingly. A dark eyebrow lifted in her direction and full lips thinned slightly. After a moment, Master Kallas let out a slow exhale and resettled.

"Forgive me, darling. The situation has caught me off-guard. Let me be clear in stating that I am not upset with you in any way for wanting to accept, nor will I be upset _should_ you accept," she said, lips twisting slightly. Hermione waited, somewhat surprised that the witch was providing her with an answer at all.

Master Kallas shifted again, dark fingers smoothing the ivory silk over her legs carefully. At once, Hermione realized it was a gesture of insecurity.

"In most circles, it is understood that as your Master, I am the gateway to your correspondence. That is not to say that I am here to monitor your mail or messages, but it is a gesture of respect that acknowledges our shared schedule and the deep nature of the work we are engaging in at this time. To… go around that presents difficulty, as you are now realizing. A request of this magnitude should have been sent to me so that we could have examined the options with a bit more synchronicity."

There was just a little bit of reproach in her master's voice and Hermione found herself thinking back through Yiayia's tried and true methods of analyzing others. Surprised, she peered at the woman next to her and tried to absorb the gentle microexpressions passing across her beautiful features.

"So what you're telling me is that you're upset with _Minerva_ ," Hermione said gently. Her master's deceptively calm expression provided the answer and Hermione sat back, chewing on her lower lip.

"Well... I think you have every right to be," she replied thoughtfully.

 _Especially considering our conversation last night… I am surprised Minerva didn't think to at least_ mention _the possibility of re-instituting the Order. And considering Master Kallas' own history… that seems a rather large overstep on her part to go directly to me._

Distantly, Hermione wondered how she would have responded to the summons had it come through Master Kallas first… _probably a lot better than just now..._

A soft chuckle cut through her thoughts and Hermione was surprised when her master fell back against the sofa inelegantly and wiped a heavy hand across her face, letting loose a long sigh that held the barest hint of frustration. Hermione remained sitting up, unsure of what to make of the witch's sudden departure from propriety.

"Oh darling… let it be stated _clearly_... that you are ever so unpredictable… and _that_ , my darling girl... is an utter _delight!_ "

Master Kallas punctuated her words by tapping a gentle finger on Hermione's arm and by the end, she found herself smiling broadly in response, reveling in the swell of emotion that suddenly grew between them. Hermione tentatively leaned back until she was as equally slouched as the witch next to her, their ivory robes overlapping in a messy symphony as her master continued to chuckle lightly.

They remained like that for a long while, Hermione giggling softly in disbelief as her master threw a shapely leg over one arm of the sofa even as they nestled closer together so that their sides were flush. One dark cocoa hand continued to stroke her arm gently and Hermione found herself relaxing, lulled into a peaceful haze as the concerns of world faded into the background.

Minerva's letter fell to one side, forgotten... as reassuring sunshine streamed through clear windows, bathing them in a warm embrace that quickly made Hermione's eyes feel heavy.

Realizing that she was getting sleepy, Hermione tilted her head to the right to see her master's eyes fluttering closed... her mane of curls framing her face like a dark halo.

Absently, she noted how the witch's open and relaxed expression was entirely captivating and beautiful. Her breath caught, and she felt her lips curl into a soft smile.

"Master?" Hermione whispered.

"Mmm?"

"Thank you."

Tomorrow would come soon enough.


	26. Chapter 26

_A/N: Oh, things are moving forward, that's for sure... Thank you all for the wonderful feedback!_

* * *

A shriek in the kitchen and the sound of breaking glass startled Ginny Weasley from her reading, even as a parchment appeared before her, nearly crashing into her face as she made to rise from the sofa. _What the-?_

Plucking it from the air, she was surprised to see her name written in familiar emerald ink.

Turning it over carefully, her article on broom statistics fell by the wayside as she undid the unfamiliar seal and began read its contents in earnest. Green eyes quickly widened, and she took a moment to flip the parchment back and forth trying to understand how it had appeared before her so suddenly. _This is... is this **real?**_

She devoured the message quickly.

 _Ginevra Weasley,_

 _I regret to interrupt your morning, however recent world events have brought to light new developments that I believe will evolve into a threat demanding of our time and attention. I have been presented with enough significant evidence to suggest that the Order of the Phoenix should be reinstated - heretofore advancing against the armies and influence of Lord Voldemort and now to counter a threat of perhaps even greater magnitude._

 _It is with great reluctance that I call you from your daily life and beseech you to render aid._

 _The first meeting of the Third Order of the Phoenix will convene tomorrow evening, Friday, November 19, 1999 at 19:00, local time._

 _This parchment will serve as a Portkey. Please ensure you have it upon your person should you agree to answer the summons._

 _Respectfully,_  
 _Minerva McGonagall_

Her lips falling into an "O" shape, Ginny quickly sprang off the sofa, mind whirling with a number of questions even as she navigated the familiar route to the kitchen. Bursting into the room she paused, freezing as her eyes absorbed the image of her mother standing near the sink - her face a mask of shock as a similar parchment lay relaxed in one hand.

Before Ginny could ask a question, there was a knock at the door and George Weasley strode in, running a hand through his red locks.

"Hello, Mum! Ginny." Blue eyes quickly absorbed their mother's stricken expression and the parchments they were both gripping. A moment later he pulled one out of his own pocket. "Oh good, we all match! S'going to be a right party then, innit?"

Her mum smacked George's arm angrily even as Ginny sniffed and shook her head, moving to pull out a chair at the kitchen table. They all glanced between one another for a moment longer, holding their parchments carefully as if they might suddenly burst into flame. Her mother cast a fearful glance over toward the family clock as if expecting all of their names to suddenly shift to "Mortal Peril," at any moment.

"What d'you think this means?" Ginny asked slowly, her eyes retracing the parchment's contents again. She heard George shift, but her soft question fell into the sudden silence of the kitchen like a heavy weight.

A moment later, George moved to lean against one counter, casually plucking an apple from a basket. He took a big bite before waving the fruit, one eyebrow lifting puckishly.

"'Spose Ol' McGonagall must have good reason. I reckon she wouldn't call us back for nothing. Can't imagine she misses us all underfoot that much! Ow!" Her brother flinched as their mum whacked him on the head with a dishtowel.

"Minerva McGonagall is _not_ old, George Weasley! And this is serious! I have a good mind not to let you go, Ginevra Weasley," their mum hissed, pinning them both with an intense glare even as they both sputtered indignantly, their voices overlapping.

"I never said I wasn't serious! Geez, woman! Watch where you're swinging that thing!"

"Mum, I'm of age - you can't keep me from things this time! I'm _going_ to the meeting!"

Molly Weasley stood trembling, one hand at the ready with the limp dishtowel even as her eyes glared daggers at the two of them.

A moment later however, those same eyes filled with tears and she turned away, tucking the parchment into her pocket even as Ginny exchanged a look with her brother. Sighing internally, she rose and moved to put a comforting hand on her mother's shoulder, nearly flinching when it was immediately squeezed back even as the witch before her shuddered with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry, mum. But you _know_ that we're all going to end up going… and, like you said. This is serious. If McGonagall is re-instituting the Order then it means she needs our help. Personally, I know that I can't _not_ answer the call," Ginny said softly, looking to George for assistance.

Her brother's lips twisted into a sad smile and he came to lay his hand atop both of theirs.

"Mum… no one in our family is ignorant of the risks. I say we all go as a family and hear what she has to say. You can't fault us for wanting to remain informed," he said diplomatically. They felt their mother take a deep wavering breath.

Ginny felt a twinge of sadness at her older brother's careful words. Gone were the days of easy laughter and quick banter. Without his other half, George had developed a much more serious side… and while Ginny knew he still made an effort to keep the majority of his interactions lighthearted and full of fun, she feared a bit of his flame had been extinguished forever.

"Well, now… that seems quite reasonable, George," her mum murmured, her voice surprisingly steady. Ginny fought not to reveal just how surprised she was that their mother had capitulated so easily. Abruptly, the witch turned and looked up at the both of them, her eyes bright, but her expression fierce.

"Very well. Just… please do me a favor, both of you?"

Ginny resisted the urge to glance at her brother for reassurance before she nodded. Her mother lifted a brow carefully.

"Consider your options first before you go charging into an unknown situation heedless of the consequences. I know the Order promotes a feeling of action, it is still an organization devoted to intelligence gathering - something that neither of you have much actual experience with…" Her mother's blue eyes gave them a swift glare.

"Now, I'm not trying to make that into a challenge for either you, so don't go twisting my words. I just want you to _promise me_ that you'll _think_ before agreeing to anything, all right?"

"Believe me mum, we will," Ginny replied softly, her mind already pressing away images from the Battle of Hogwarts. None of them were oblivious to the realities of war.

George moved forward and planted a kiss on his mother's head.

"Yeah, mum. And anyway, I doubt Ol' McG would send us anywhere blind. She's got to be a bit more organized than Dumbledore," George responded with a smile, his confidence in the witch clear. Their mum pursed her lips in disapproval at the nickname, but gave a nod. Moving closer, he wrapped an arm around their mum's shoulders and gave her a shake; a moment later she graced him with a smile before giving him another fond _whack!_ on the head.

Ginny chuckled, already thinking about how much her brothers had secretly loved with their Transfiguration professor while still at Hogwarts. She had it on good authority that the elder witch was just as mischievous as the twins themselves had been.

It seemed to have been the right thing to say, because a moment later, their mum's expression brightened somewhat and she kissed them both on the cheek soundly before turning back toward the kitchen sink.

"Actually, you're right, George. No matter what we are facing, I am certainly glad that it's _Minerva_ in charge of things now," she said, her voice almost cheerful.

Ginny frowned and made to ask a question about the curious statement but quickly stopped as George gave her a silent shake of his head. He mouthed a quick "Later" to her and took another bite of his apple, ignoring her confused expression.

Already moving toward the door he gave a cheerful wave.

"Well… can't say I expected that on my break, but I guess I'll be seeing you both tomorrow. 'Bye Mum! 'Bye squirt!"

"'Bye," she mumbled, mind still considering her mum's comment in relation to their combined summons.

Her mother's ministrations in the sink faded into the background as Ginny bit a lip, realizing that… despite seven year of schooling, she really didn't know anything about Minerva McGonagall at all.

* * *

Hermione's peaceful breath tickled Dia's ear and she opened her eyes to find that the slanted light in the Library had traveled across the room, falling diagonally upon clean white bookshelves suggesting that it had left the sofa some time ago.

Rubbing her temple carefully so as not to disturb her apprentice, Dia cast a quick a tempus and saw that it was drawing close to four in the afternoon.

 _Sweet Circe, we've been asleep for two hours!_

A careful glance indicated that Hermione's brow was furrowed in concentration. Even in sleep the young witch was still thinking. Unable to help herself, Dia smoothed a gentle finger against the crease and was pleased to see the small pucker relax.

Considering how to best extract herself, she muttered a few spells before rising slowly, shaking her head in soft amusement when Hermione didn't even stir. _She must be exhausted_.

Another whispered charm ironed out the creases in her robes and Dia quickly conjured two small blue bottles from her private stores, quaffing one quickly and leaving the other on a pile of books where it would be readily available whenever her apprentice woke. Though she knew Hermione would be incensed at the interruption to her studies, it was clear the witch needed the extra sleep.

Tracing the young woman's soft features one more time, Dia sighed and glided away, already cataloguing the plans she would have to soon make.

A letter to Minerva was in order. To say that she was _annoyed_ with her former mentor was a complete understatement. A flash of anger ignited quickly and Dia took a deep breath as she made her way to the kitchen. Her words deserved careful consideration.

Turning the corner, she jumped when she nearly collided with a petite figure in royal blue.

"Ah! There you are darling, I asked the wards to notify me as soon as you were alone."

Too tired to glare, Dia simply walked around her aunt, sighing even as she swiped the cup of coffee out of the witch's hands.

"Mmm... theia, is this urgent?" she asked softly, coming to lean against the center island.

Unruffled as usual, Yiayia circled around and quickly conjured another cup, stirring it gently as she leaned against the opposite side of the flat surface.

"Yes, darling. I _am_ sorry for disturbing you…" she said apologetically. Sipping the liquid gold fervently, Dia allowed herself a moment to savor the delicious blend before fixing her aunt with a purposeful look.

"Well?"

"I sent word to Zohar last night. Theodotus Ambrozaitys was killed during recent events at the Sagrada Familia," Yiayia said evenly. Dia reached out a hand.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, theia," she murmured even as the elder witch patted her arm gently. The dark brows constricted slightly, but Yiayia returned the moment with a bright smile.

"Yes, thank you darling. It… _was_ difficult news to hear, but at the very least I won our longstanding bet," her aunt said, pausing for effect. "We bet one another long ago that he'd be the one to die first. I threw in that it would be doing some sort of god-awful middle-of-the-night inspection at one of his sites. He _was_ fond of those, you know. With interest, Theo probably owes me quite the sum of Galleons."

"Theia…" Dia chided gently. Yiayia sniffed once before her expression crumpled and a lone tear trickled its way down her cheek. Impatiently, she wiped it away before taking another breath and fixing Dia with a wavering smile.

"Ah well. Nothing to be done about it, my darling. Loss continues to resonate even when you get to be my age," she said softly. Dia waited patiently, knowing that her aunt's long-time friend was a huge blow. They had known each other for over nine decades.

"Anyway… I'm telling you now, partially to inform you that I will be departing for Latvia tomorrow for the funeral. Inese has already invited me to stay the weekend, though I will wait before deciding whether or not to encroach upon her hospitality," Yiayia began, rubbing her coffee cup with a long blue nail. A moment later, bright hazel eyes zeroed in on Dia's.

"But, I also suspect that his death was no accident."

Dia pursed her lips and stood up straight, resting both hands upon the counter as she gazed across at her aunt carefully. It seemed there were to be several difficult conversations bearing action today.

"I would imagine not," she agreed in a low voice. Yiayia seemed to visibly relax at her acknowledgment before nodding to herself and taking a sip of coffee.

The silence between them grew longer as each witch held her own counsel. _This complicates matters greatly_ , Dia thought.

Surprisingly her thoughts quickly turned to Minerva and her impending acceptance of the Order summons. Dia's first instinct had been to engage with a few choice members of the Secretariat to the Hellenic Council to see what other intelligence she could extract. The other impulse was already in progress, though the fact that Eleni and Stelios had not yet returned meant that their search was not going well.

 _Jethro, you old coot… sometimes your ways are far too set in stone for the rest of the world._

However… Minerva was, and always had been well-connected in ways that had rivaled Dia and her family. _Perhaps the summons will prove to the advantage._

Yiayia appeared to sigh gently, turning in place to lean her back against the island, one hand holding her coffee as her eyes gazed unseeingly out the windows toward the silver slip of the sea.

"I have spoken with Theo's second-in-command," Yiayia said softly, breaking the silence. Dia looked up and saw the elder witch's eyes narrow lightly even as she continued to gaze out the window. Moving to slide next to her aunt, they both leaned against the island as another moment was devoted to their coffee.

"And?" she asked. Yiayia pursed her lips.

"Aurors indicate that he was crushed immediately upon impact when the spires fell. He did not suffer," she began, even as another tear made its way down her cheek. Dia remained silent though she pressed a bit closer in a gesture of solidarity.

"You knew Theo, darling. Quick as a pistol, arrogant at times, yes… but _sharp_. So sharp! The man had decades of experience behind him. Even if the basilica had begun to fall, Theo would have _known_ immediately how to save himself _and_ his company. It's ludicrous to imagine his death in this manner. The _only_ way such an event were to have occurred semi-naturally is if he were to have been rendered unconscious or Imperiused," Yiayia said, gesturing impatiently with one hand.

"He doesn't strike me as the Imperiused type," Dia replied lightly, already certain that her aunt would agree.

Theodotus had been a familiar figure at the Kefalas villa throughout her childhood years. The old Architect had lived through Grindelwald's War having escaped with a number of scars and stories to prove it. To her mother's extreme disapproval, he used to delight Dia with fantastical stories about his past life as a spy (which as she grew older, she came to realize were far cleaner and more full of bravado than the actual truth).

On one memorable occasion she had watched Theo duel her aunt on a lazy summer afternoon down by the beach. Even as a nine-year old she had recognized the truly high-level ability that the both of them possessed. There had been much carrying on and cajoling on the part of her family as they had watched, but beneath it all, Dia recalled the lighting fast reflexes, creative ingenuity, and incredibly intense focus…

 _No… Even at age 119, those skills would never have abandoned Theo._

"Indeed not," her aunt agreed, setting her cup aside and straightening her shoulders. She folded her arms in front of her carefully before continuing.

"Local Aurors insist there was no evidence of a duel and that the diagnostics show that Theo was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had to hold my tongue against hexing Aurelius out of sheer spite when he told me. I never knew what Theodotus saw in that boy. He's a discredit to the Guild."

"Did they examine the body?" Dia asked, acknowledging her aunt's sudden shift into her impersonal business-mode.

"There was no evidence to suggest he had been slipped a Potion," Yiayia replied quickly. Dia frowned.

"Your thoughts?"

"Well… either, local Aurors are concealing the truth of their investigation, _or_ whomever was there that night managed to convince Theo to remain in the pathway of destruction of his own accord," Yiayia stated smoothly. Dia took a deep breath and considered her aunt's logic.

"What do you imagine they would have used as leverage?" she asked. Yiayia gave a heavy sigh, her left hand coming to fiddle with the many rings on her right.

"I can only imagine that someone knew of his research," she replied in a peculiar tone of voice.

Dia gave a slow nod, realizing that her aunt was about divulge information from the Guild. Yiayia confirmed it a moment later as she held up her wand.

"I must swear you to secrecy, darling."

Dia let the statement hang for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"I do not believe I am prepared to take such an oath, theia," she replied honestly. Yiayia snapped her head to the right and pinned her with a serious expression. Twisting her lips, Dia explained.

"A few hours ago, my apprentice received a summons from Minerva McGonagall. It seems that the Order of the Phoenix is to be reinstated."

Her aunt's expression remained placid.

"I see. Then, no doubt, you will be rejoining," Yiayia replied, her voice flat. _I did not **ask**_ _for this, theia._

"I was given very little choice," Dia replied after a moment, a thread of emotion finding its way into her voice. Hazel eyes watched her face carefully and Yiayia sniffed humorlessly.

"Well. It seems our role has grown more complicated than I would have expected," she said dryly.

"And what is our role, exactly?" Dia retorted with just a hint of bitterness.

Yiayia pressed away from the island carefully and fixed her with an dispassionate gaze.

"Where we always are, anipsiá mou. In the thick of things... whether we wish it or not."


	27. Chapter 27

_A/N: This one was a bit of a challenge, but hopefully it reads clear..._

* * *

Hermione sat on her favorite rock, chin tucked atop one bare leg as she gazed off into the distance, her thoughts suspended somewhere between the rhythm of the waves and dwindling calls of seabirds.

Friday evening had turned out to be unseasonably warm and after finding herself unable to focus after dinner, she had decided to go for an evening swim. The cold water had been soothing… numbing even, and she had swam quickly, pushing her tired body to its limits even as her mind worked to shut itself off.

Now, sitting with a towel wrapped around her shoulders, one leg dangling above a small drop-off toward the waves, Hermione found her thoughts and memories returning with a vengeance.

Despite the turmoil she had felt since receiving the summons from Minerva, yesterday and today had passed quickly with little fanfare. Master Kallas had informed her that Minerva had been appraised of their joint acceptance, though Hermione hadn't dared to ask whether or not the witch had apologized for her strange overstep.

Yiayia had made an unannounced visit the previous afternoon and while the dark-haired witch had greeted her with her customary zeal and dramatic enthusiasm, Hermione couldn't help but feel as though she had interrupted the elder witch's reassurances regarding her mentor's impending return to Great Britain. Beyond that niggle of doubt and the continued backdrop of guilt that she felt for placing Master Kallas into an uncomfortable position, the enigmatic witch had seemed rather subdued… and Hermione couldn't help but worry about what she had gotten them both into.

They had partaken in an informal dinner with leftovers from the dinner with Minerva, and for a brief moment everything had been as it always was.

Hermione had brought a few textbooks to the table and Master Kallas had assisted her with a few difficult points in the familiar informal lecture-mode that she had learned to love. The biggest difference was that they had stood at the kitchen island, eating directly out of tupperware containers in a manner that felt decidedly… _uncivilized_ in the most delicious way. Her master had even shared a few memories from her Apprenticeship beneath Mistress Cunningham in America, and the evening had concluded with smiles and a bit of laughter.

This morning, however… Master Kallas had remained elusive for much of the day. After a quick morning hike, Hermione had returned to the villa to find a note from her master indicating that she would be in her study for the majority of the day and wished to remain undisturbed.

Though she had felt a little slighted, Hermione had tried to reassure herself that nothing in the note indicated anything personal… and anyway, she had her theses to attend to as they weren't about to write themselves.

Around noon, she had been startled from her writing by the distant sound of breaking glass. Hermione had vacillated for several moments, wondering whether or not to investigate. Their bond remained undisturbed however, and so guiltily, she had elected to remain in the Library. Her master had emerged a half hour later and quietly, Hermione had made her way to the kitchen… catching a brief moment of seeing the witch's red-rimmed eyes before Master Kallas' serene expression had snapped into place; she had suspected that the witch had cast a wandless glamour.

Sighing heavily, Hermione brought herself back to the present, pulling the thick towel a bit closer around her shoulders even as she shivered. _Stop being so paranoid… Master Kallas is an adult and she will come to you if there's anything seriously wrong._

Unfortunately, a moment later, the contralto tones of her former mentor broke through her thoughts and Hermione felt her anxiety spike as she recalled Minerva's resigned words from the previous evening… _"I also worry that Diamantina may never divulge the relevant information that you will need to support one another."_

Damn. There were no easy answers.

Shifting, Hermione allowed both legs to dangle over the edge of the rock, hissing lightly as her warm skin came in contact with the cold stone. The evening was quickly moving into night. Focusing her energy, she muttered an incantation wandlessly and was surprised and pleased when a tempus popped up next to her - glowing faintly in the increasing darkness.

 _19:43_

There was little over an hour remaining before it was time for them to leave for the Order meeting. With the time difference, the Portkey would take them away precisely at nine. Hermione sighed and moved to rise.

Biting a lip, she began to pick her way up the stone pathway back toward the villa, attempting to rationalize and unwind the knot of anxiety that kept building in the pit of her stomach. _Figure out what makes you feel the most vulnerable… and then you can retain control over it._

Absently, she thought back to her conversation with Yiayia at Madam Anastos'... realizing with a humorless snort that that had only occurred three days previous. _Merlin, this week has been intense…_

Strong, bare feet plodded up the path, one following the other diligently even as her brow furrowed more deeply.

 _You are worried about Master Kallas._

All right. As Yiayia had been quick to remind her - the only emotions she could control were her own… whatever concerns or fears that Master Kallas potentially held about returning to Great Britain were her own and Hermione could only help alleviate them if the other witch allowed.

 _That's it!_

Thinking quickly, Hermione made a decision… mentally making a list of the many ways she could help her mentor feel more secure and in control of the situation. The biggest way she could likely help would be defer to their Mastery contract. As much as Hermione knew it would be easy to slip into the familiarity of her friendships in the Order, she knew that she could not.

 _You are bound to her just as much as she is you. You must respect that and defer to her… even if the others aren't able to understand your new relationship right away._

Nodding to herself, Hermione continued up the path - legs burning slightly as her tired muscles worked to ascend the uneven steps.

Yes, that was it. Much like Minerva, Master Kallas operated through a careful combination of observation and logical analysis. They both frequently went against Hermione's own Gryffindor-ish impulses, but then - _that's why you're here, to learn, isn't it?_ Rather than jumping into whatever unknown situation lay before them, she would have to be patient. Grounded.

And she would have to defer to her Master.

If she were being honest, Hermione felt a great amount of reassurance in that simple decision. Although their contract was a shared agreement founded on the furthering of her own knowledge, they were still a team. A partnership. A Master and Apprentice… and they would be far more powerful together than in an uneven alliance.

Sighing, Hermione considered the other half of her spiraling confidence.

 _You are worried about seeing Harry and Ron… and Ginny. And the Weasleys… Dammit!_

She drew in a steady breath, her mind quickly flicking back to her first long conversation with Yiayia. The witch's words hung in her mind and despite herself, Hermione felt her eyes prickle at the memory.

 _They were sitting at the sofa near the window at Anastos' shop. Heavy rain splattered against the windows mixing in to quiet murmurs from the adjoining room. Yiayia was pinning her with a perceptive gaze… Hermione was already in shock from how quickly the witch had read her childhood, telling her things about herself that she had never told anyone._

 _With a quiet thrill, Hermione felt herself sit back as Yiayia sat forward, her cup of coffee balanced in one ringed hand. A feeling of dread crept into the pit of her stomach and she knew intuitively, that the witch was about to tell more than she was prepared to hear._

 _"I admit I have the advantage of having read about you in the paper, so I know that you found friendship with the two boys who helped form the Golden Trio," Yiayia began, her hazel eyes soft._

 _"I imagine that boys are more transparent than girls in their words and actions which likely appeals to your direct nature, though at times their numbskull ways likely grate on your patience. And… I can also imagine that, while at first, their friendship satisfied your longing for camaraderie and close confidants, you have found that their companionship no longer fulfills your growing need for those who can stimulate and match your intellectual thirst and the need to challenge yourself."_

 _Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears._

 _"That is not to say you will not remain good friends… but there comes a time when childhood blossoms into the complex nature of adulthood. You are a strong woman and a talented witch and men have always found difficulty with both of those things. Suffice to say, I imagine that you've likely experienced some friction in your relationships as you struggle to fulfill your burning need to challenge your intellect... and balance it against the image that others have of you that you feel you've begun to outgrow - a people-pleaser, know-it-all, diligent friend, constant supporter..."_

 _Hermione pressed her lips together firmly, staring down at twisting hands and willing herself not to cry. Yiayia sipped her coffee and shifted her teacup slightly, plucking at the kourabiedes that materialized there. There was a long pause in which the only sound was the light murmur of conversation from the adjoining room._

 _"Well? Am I close?" Yiayia asked brightly around a mouthful of cookie._

 _Hermione shook her head and made a noise - somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Willing herself to look up, she fixed Yiayia with a watery smile._

 _"How could you possibly know everything about my life?" she asked quietly, her voice cracking._

 _Hazel eyes softened into a warm smile as Yiayia leaned forward and placed a hand atop Hermione's._

 _"Oh, my darling… you are not alone. We are all simply here… thrown together on this earth, just trying to do our best to figure out the delightful mystery of life!"_

Shaking her head, Hermione moved back into the present. Carefully, she made her way across the quiet terrace, pulling open the sliding door and pressing it back into place. There was no sound from anywhere in the villa and feeling a small surge of disappointment, she began making her way back toward her rooms.

 _Harry and Ron are your friends… you need to be honest with them about why you haven't been writing,_ she thought firmly.

While Yiayia had been right about her feelings, she was being cowardly and unfair.

 _You are dishonoring your friendship… and yourself._

It was time to lion up on that point… and hopefully through a combination of time and meaningful communication, she could repair some of the damage. _Even if you've grown apart… they still have a lot to offer you._

Hermione arrived to her rooms and quickly lit the candles, smiling even as she shook her head at the thought of those two boys. They were _all_ growing into different people. _That's simply the nature of life._ She banished her towel to the hamper and summoned her wand. Moving toward the wardrobe she looked over her options.

"Come on, girl… You can do this," she murmured to herself. Her friends would be there for her, of that she was certain. It would take a bit of doing, but she was surprised at realizing how much she missed them.

Running her fingers over the array of beautiful fabrics, Hermione suddenly felt a wave of determination course through her. Flicking past her day-to-day robes and work robes, she pulled out a set that she'd only worn on a few occasions.

The rich sapphire blue gleamed in the candlelight and as she held it up, she smiled at seeing the very subtle pattern crossing the fabric - an abstract play on the familiar Greek key. Setting it aside, she pulled out two more sets, both lighter, and made from luscious ivory silk.

Hermione placed her robes across her bed with care before quickly moving to her private bath and flicking on the shower. She paused to stare at her slightly-sorry reflection… taking in her salty hair, tanned skin, and tired features. _Well, you have work to do… nothing to be done about that._

Leaning forward she stared into her own caramel eyes for a long moment. With both of her most pressing worries rationalized into submission, Hermione felt a bit more of her confidence return.

Abruptly however, the image of her forlorn master standing in the kitchen with red-rimmed eyes fluttered into her thoughts and Hermione found herself lifting her chin.

"Let's make you into an Apprentice befitting of her Master's name."

* * *

At the Burrow, Molly Weasley smoothed a hand over her robes one more time even as the other fluttered up to press her red curls back into place.

"Dear… you're fidgeting," her husband murmured, peering at her in the reflection of the mirror where he was combing back a few flyaways.

"Well of course, I'm fidgeting, Arthur!" she replied exasperatedly. Molly pulled the parchment Portkey from her pocket, noting absently that it was well creased from having folded and unfolded it many times.

"I spoke with Sturgis briefly this afternoon. I have a feeling this is largely going to be informational," her husband reassured. Sighing, Molly turned and crossed her arms, knowing that she was being irrational.

"You _really_ have no idea what she's uncovered?" She had asked the question repeatedly and Arthur gave her a small smile even as his fingers worked the small closures of his robes carefully.

"Molly… you know that I don't. I have some guesses based on whispers at the Ministry, but they're nothing worth sharing," he replied evenly. Dark blue eyes stared into hers beseechingly and Molly felt herself nod, glancing at the smaller version of the family clock they kept in their bedroom. All of the hands were currently pointing to "Home," except for Ron and George whose hands were still on "Work."

With a start, she realized that the clock still counted Ginny as being home even though she had decided to have dinner over at Grimmauld Place with the boys. Abruptly, Molly felt her heart clench at the magic's implication.

"I just feel like… everything is about to change," she whispered. A moment later, familiar arms wrapped themselves across her sternum and she allowed herself a moment to sink back into the solid embrace, her eyes falling shut.

"I know, dear. But we have to trust that everything will unfold as it should."

* * *

"You're absolutely _sure_ about coming?"

"Yes, dear. Now stop pacing. Horace has already agreed to cover your fledgings for the evening, there's nothing to worry about!"

"I am hardly concerned about the students, Pomona." Filius paused and glanced at his wife who was watching him with a bemused stare. Heaving a sigh, she rose from her place before the hearth and opened a hand toward him.

Moving closer, he took it and gazed up into the familiar brown eyes.

"Pomona… you don't have to do this," he said softly. His wife's rosy lips curled into a sad, half-smile and she shook her head.

"Yes, my love... I do. I will not stand back and watch as my closest friend and _husband_ go off to fight in another war while I remain behind on the sidelines," she said softly, her warm voice betraying her conviction. Unmoved, Filius pursed his lips.

"We don't know that there are any such things on the horizon," he replied calmly. One eyebrow lifted toward dark curls laced with silver.

"Oh _yes_ we do, dear… Even if you haven't divulged your research to me, I know as well as you that this is no small thing that Minerva is bringing to light. And this time, I refuse to sit and watch while she runs herself ragged attempting to protect the rest of us from harm. I won't have it, Filius!"

"Pomona-" he tried again but she simply squeezed his hand, stalling his protest with a look.

"Filius. I am going. This is bigger than you or me. Let me do my part in wanting to preserve the lives we have always worked so hard to protect," she said. Brown eyes bore into his and Filius felt his resolve crumble under his wife's gentle, but firm words. While slow to arrive to her decisions, once she had made them, there was nothing to be done.

 _However in this instance…_ Filius sighed sadly even as his eyes raked over the portraits above the hearth. The glowing faces of their children and grandchildren looked back, wreathed in happiness and laughter. _… I would give anything to see you remain behind, my love._

"Forgive me, Pomona," he whispered, gaze falling into the flames despondently. Hearing a chuckle he looked up to see his wife resettling in her favorite armchair, fingers tracing Minerva's parchment quietly, the ghost of a smile fading at her lips.

"Forgive yourself first, Filius," she replied softly.

* * *

Harry Potter strode through the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, munching on a biscuit even as he went in search of his friend who had disappeared after dinner, declaring a pressing need to study for their upcoming exam.

Appearing in the living space that was still under renovation, he was surprised to find Ron Weasley sitting atop a pile of lumber, doing exactly as he said he would. His friend was perched on the long pile of wood lengthwise, almost as if he were sitting on a bench or a broom, brow furrowed in concentration as his lips mumbled a few of the words in the thick book he was reading.

Harry bit back a chuckle at realizing the comfortable armchair had been stacked with parchments and books… and that with the rest of the furniture pressed against one wall, there was nowhere else for his friend to sit. _Hermione would be proud._

"Oy… we need to go soon, are you ready?" Harry asked, picking up his friend's robes from the floor and brushing away bits of sawdust. Ron nodded absently, scribbling a few more notes in the margins.

"Ron." Blue eyes suddenly snapped upwards to meet his guiltily. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, mate!"

Harry chuckled in earnest this time as Ron jumped several ways at once, writing one last note before nearly toppling off the pile of beams as he reached for a shoe.

"You're going to be _fine_. Gawain said that it's mostly going to cover what we've been working on for the last three months," Harry said reassuringly, handing Ron a biscuit even as his friend rose. Ron rolled his eyes, swiping the pastry as he threw his book atop the pile on the armchair.

" _You_ can say that. Physiology makes sense to you," he said, casting a glare toward the book.

"Yeah, well at least you're not in tutoring to understand Comparative Strategy," Harry replied with a bit of self-deprecation. Predictably, it dissolved Ron's frustration immediately. His friend sniffed in amusement.

"You never were very good at chess, mate," Ron replied, clapping him on the shoulder with a smile even as Harry shook his head. They both chuckled as Ron slipped on his robes.

"Do you think 'Mione is going be there?" He asked. Harry paused at hearing the hopeful note in his friend's voice.

"You know she hates that nickname," Harry chuckled, pulling at the collar of his Academy robes absently. "And yeah, I do. Gawain mentioned that her Master will be coming, so I'd assume she's going to come along too."

A second later, Harry stumbled slightly as Ginny pushed past him and strode into the room, her slate gray robes whipping his legs.

"Come on," she growled, her entire posture tense. Ron simply rolled his eyes.

Harry bit back an internal sigh, realizing that his girlfriend wasn't about to change her mood anytime soon. They had briefly talked about their mutual friend over dinner, but Ginny been entirely unwilling to listen to any excuses upon the witch's behalf. Even Ron had tried to stick up for Hermione, saying, rather maturely… that everyone dealt was dealing with the aftermath of the War in their own way. Though Hermione's lack of correspondence still stung a little, Harry thought that Ginny was taking it to a rather personal level.

Ginny kicked Ron's trainer toward him before planting her hands on her hips.

"If we're late we're going to miss the Portkey and I don't want want to explain that to McGonagall, do you?" She hissed. Harry ducked his head and quickly pulled his parchment out of his pocket. He thought it best not to mention how much she looked like Mrs. Weasley.

"All right, all right!" Ron grabbed his shoe and put it on, muttering something underneath his breath that sounded suspiciously like "dragon woman."

"Let's all… maybe just take a breath, okay?" Harry suggested gently. A moment later he received a green-eyed glare and pair of rolling eyes. _All right, maybe not._

Ginny huffed and folded her arms, continuing to glare as Ron fumbled with a double knot.

"We have thirty seconds," Harry intoned diplomatically. They both came over, holding out their parchments expectantly, even as Ron licked a hand and smoothed it over his hair. Ginny's nose wrinkled… replaced a moment later by a furrowed brow.

"Do either of you know where the meeting is being held?" she asked. Ron and Harry looked at each other in surprise. _Gawain hadn't said..._

"Actually, no."

"Me neither."

Before anyone could take a guess, they felt a collective jerk behind their navels and the room swiftly slid away.


	28. Chapter 28

_A/N: I am sincerely hoping that everyone will get through the next two chapters without too much of a headache. Best of luck!_

* * *

Minerva stood with her hands clasped behind her back, gazing across the flat landscape of her family grounds, brow furrowed even as the last rays of sunlight turned a distant line of oak trees a shade of crimson.

The sprawling sea of plains and fresh air did nothing to alleviate the coil of anticipation she felt in the pit of her stomach. _There is nothing to be done now but wait._

"Mistress?"

The high voice caused her to turn, a familiar prickle indicating that her Animagus senses were active in helping her eyes adjust to the dark room.

"Yes, Olive?"

"The drawing room is prepared with all the materials youse asked for, Mistress," the Elf said respectfully, peering up at her.

"Did the wards require adjustment?" Minerva asked out of curiosity. Twenty-six people in the drawing room was quite a lot.

"Yes, Mistress. But Ise only moving them a little bit," the Elf replied. Large green eyes regarded her quietly. Minerva nodded.

"Thank you, Olive. I believe that should be all for now. Our guests should be arriving shortly," she replied. She made to gather her parchments, but paused when Olive remained, twisting her small hands lightly. Minerva raised an eyebrow.

"Mistress, is youse wanting a potion now or later?"

"I should think later… if you would please remind me to take one before I return to Hogwarts," she replied. A gentle press against her sternum indicated that the area was tender, but less inflamed, as she had done little today but paperwork.

Olive nodded, bowing at the waist before disappearing with a small _pop!_

Sighing softly, Minerva returned her gaze to the windows.

"Merlin, let us hope I am not being foolish."

* * *

"Blimey… you'd think we'd be used to that by now," Ron said despairingly, running a hand through his hair even as the familiar wave of nausea rushed through him.

 _I hate Portkeys._

Next to him, Harry made a grunt of agreement, his face rather green, while Ginny, who always recovered the fastest, was already giving a sweeping glance around the room.

"Wow… this is a really beautiful space," she said softly, eyes crinkling as a few of the Hogwarts professors on the other side of the room waved at them in greeting. Ron gave a smile that came out more like a wince, and he took a deep breath, placing a steadying hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm too old for this," he mumbled, drawing a snort of amusement from his friend. Ginny rolled her eyes.

A moment later Ron straightened. They were standing in a large formal drawing room, standing to one side of an extra long conference table that looked to hold over twenty people. Across from them, there was a large bank of high windows along the opposite wall that overlooked darkened grounds. Without the light, he couldn't place the landscape.

"Where d'you think we are?" Harry asked, voicing the question that was on all of their minds.

"Looks like an old Pureblood manor," Ginny said quietly, her eyes raking over the high copper ceiling and elegant chandelier above the table. Harry nodded in agreement, looking to the deep blue paneling along the walls behind them that were tastefully gilded without appearing overwrought.

There was another pop as two elegant witches in rich sapphire robes appeared and quietly looked around the room. Unconsciously, Ron found himself straightening in response, smoothing one hand over the front of his dark navy blue Academy robes self-consciously. _Wonder who they are._

"Yes and no. It's not as pretentious looking enough. I would maybe guess Ol' McGonagall's manse by the look of the architecture, though I don't know anyone who's ever been there," Ron replied absently, still taking in the two beautiful women on the other side of the room. They stood quite close and while they didn't bear much resemblance to one another, something in their body language and close proximity suggested that they came as a unit.

"Wait… is that _Hermione?_ " Harry had followed his gaze and was peering at the younger of the two witches rather directly. Ron felt a wave of embarrassment as Harry called their friend's name loudly, waving a hand for attention. However, he was surprised a moment later when a brilliant smile broke out across the witch's face and she moved to lean across the table between them.

"Hello Harry," the witch said softly. Ron blinked, unable to reconcile the familiar voice with the unfamiliar woman standing before him. A moment later, large caramel eyes turned to him and she smiled. "Hello Ron… Ginny."

"Blimey, it is you," Ron breathed, eyes widening as his mind worked to match his friend to the rather beautiful woman standing before him. His heart lifted. Hermione's lips curled slightly and she gave a light chuckle.

"It's been awhile," she replied evenly. Next to him, Ron heard Ginny make a small derisive sound. Hermione's eyes immediately flicked over, but rather than comment, her smile turned wistful and a moment later she was turning to the woman beside her.

"Master, if I may… these are three of my good friends from Hogwarts. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Ginny Weasley," she said rather formally, gesturing gently toward each of them. Ron gave a small smile, feeling uncharacteristically anxious as the elegant dark-haired witch turned her focus toward them.

"My apprentice has told me wonderful things about each of you," the witch said warmly, her full lips curling into an attractive smile. A moment later she gave a rather demure nod even as her startlingly light aquamarine gaze flicked between the three of them, sending a strange thrum through Ron's chest.

"Diamantina Kallas, it is a pleasure to meet you all in person."

The witch's accent was musical and while he couldn't quite place it, Ron assumed she must have been from somewhere tropical or warm. Both she and Hermione seemed rather tanned by comparison to everyone else.

They murmured their greetings and a moment later Ron was surprised when the two witches turned in synch and began moving to greet the others in the room. He had assumed that their friend would have joined them immediately, but a moment later it was clear that Hermione was intent on seeing her mentor through the introductions. He and Harry exchanged a look as Ginny folded her arms with a disbelieving bark of laughter, shaking her head angrily.

Ron tried not to feel slighted, and he gave his sister a light push on the elbow to uncross them.

"Hey. Don't make a scene, okay? This isn't the time," he said softly, trying to keep his own feelings out of it. Ginny rolled her eyes, letting her arms drop even as her posture continued to broadcast her anger.

"Yeah, whatever," she mumbled, still watching the two witches with a glare.

The elegant woman - _Hermione's master_ , his mind supplied - introduced herself to Professors Flitwick and Sprout, Hestia Jones, and a tall wizard with bright white hair that Ron didn't recognize. Ron's brow furrowed as he watched his friend greet the other Order members elegantly, appearing to bridge the gap between their former teachers and her new mentor with a few choice phrases that had everyone chuckling.

Hermione was… _different._ A glance at both Harry and Ginny told him that the two of them were thinking the same thing, though, unlike Ginny's stormy expression, Harry appeared to be gazing after their friend with a tinge of pride.

A moment later they all turned again at another soft _pop!_ , Harry smiling broadly even as their own mentor, Gawain Robards appeared, quickly striding forward to clap a hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Hey boys… Ginny," he said by way of greeting - reaching out to cuff Harry affectionately on the head. Dark blue eyes twinkled even as they quickly took stock of the room. "You didn't let them start the party without me, didja?"

"'Course not," Ron replied with a half-smile. It felt good to have Gawain there.

Their mentor chatted amicably with Ginny for a moment as they chose seats near the center of the long mahogany table which had been prepared with parchment, quills, and matching leather folders before each seat. Ginny circled around to sit on the other side, pulling faces as she greeted their other brothers, George and Percy who had been chatting in hushed tones.

His parents arrived a moment later followed by Hagrid, Sturgis Podmore, Bill and Fleur, and a stately witch that Ron didn't recognize, though the luminous lime green robes indicated that she must have been a Healer.

His ears perked up as he heard Professor Vector chatting with Hermione's mentor in a language he didn't recognize. A moment later the three witches chuckled softly even as the Arithmancy professor nodded at Hermione in affection, her small hands gesturing oddly. A moment later, Hermione blushed and appeared to give the woman a gracious bow before Professor Vector moved away.

Ron flushed when his friend's mentor suddenly locked eyes with him, her clear gaze rather startling as she appeared to watch him for a long moment while Ron froze, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline pulse through his body - and then abruptly, the witch moved on… smiling absently as Hermione turned to greet Hagrid as he came up behind them and gave his friend a gentle hug.

Unsure of what to make of the moment, Ron filed it away before moving to take a seat next to Gawain.

"Anyone seen Minerva?" The wizard asked curiously, already pulling out a pair of reading glasses as he flipped open the leather folder. Ron pulled his forward, quickly glancing around to see others finding seats at the long table.

"Not yet, sir," he replied, eyes already taking in the carefully organized outline before him. Before he could read anything in earnest, Gawain snapped his fingers, pointing a hand at Harry.

"Exits?" Their mentor's gruff voice pinned Harry with the surprise question. Automatically, his friend looked up.

"Ah ah ah… don't look, Harry. Did _you_ see, Ron?" Gawain repeated the question. Ron closed his eyes, trying to remember the layout of the room.

"Five. Two at the other end of the room, two in the corner right behind us, and one in the middle along the back wall. You could count the bank of windows, sir, though they don't appear to open," he said. Opening his eyes, he found his mentor nodding approvingly.

"Good boy," Gawain replied even as Harry made a noise of frustration. The wizard turned to his right and lifted a brow. "Never forget, lad…"

"Constant vigilance!" Their three voices said together and Ron saw Harry shake his head and chuckle as Gawain gave him fatherly clap on the shoulder. Across the table, Ginny's eyebrows were lifted in bemusement, though a moment later her face brightened and her green gaze slid past him. Ron turned in his seat to see that Luna and Neville had appeared.

"Hello everyone! I do hope we aren't late," Luna said in her breathy way. Neville looked around a bit anxiously, but a moment later the platinum-haired witch took his hand and led them both toward seats next to Ron.

"The Headmistress seems to have staggered the arrivals, so you're right on time," he replied, giving his friends a smile. _Smart move. That many people arriving at once would be hell on the warding._

"Blimey, is that Hermione?" Neville asked suddenly, frozen mid-way to sitting. Ron followed his gaze, noting that his friend was sitting next to her mentor a bit farther down the table, the two of them eerily synchronized as they read through their materials quietly.

"She looks gorgeous," Luna said dreamily. _Yeah, she does._

"I woulda thought she would have been sitting with you guys," Neville said quietly, fixing Ron with a questioning glance. He shrugged even as Ginny huffed.

"She doesn't have time for us anymore," his sister hissed bluntly, flipping a parchment aside impatiently. Inwardly, Ron sighed. If his sister wanted to be childish, that was on her.

"Perhaps she wants to help make her Mistress feel more comfortable... I would imagine it must be hard to meet so many new people at once," Luna replied thoughtfully.

Surprisingly, there was an amused chuckle to Ron's right. They all turned to Gawain who was shaking his head, his blue eyes flicking down the table toward the two women to their far left.

" _Believe me_ , if there's any witch who can hold her own, it's Diamantina Kallas. And by the way, she goes by the title of Master… I'd, er… try not to forget that," he said.

"How d'you know her?" Harry asked quietly. Again, Gawain chuckled softly before sitting back and crossing his arms casually, looking over his glasses toward the witch in question.

"Beyond the fact that she was a member of the First Order for a time, she used to be a helluva live-wire when she was apprenticing beneath Minerva," he replied, mouth twisting into a smile.

Ron absorbed that information quietly while across the table, Ginny frowned.

"Hermione's master apprenticed beneath McGonagall?" she asked.

"Yes'm, I assumed that's how Miss Granger made that connection," Gawain replied evenly, giving a cheerful wave as Wickleffe Temple appeared alongside Percy, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Dedalus Diggle. He quickly turned, offering a hand as their other teacher strode over with a smile. Wickleffe's dark brown curls seemed a bit mussed.

Ginny muttered something under her breath and Ron sighed.

Everyone knew that the Mastery Societies were a complicated web of relationships and traditions. It seemed that some things were allowed to be common knowledge and others not, with very little apparent rhyme or reason. While it made little sense to him, it was the world that Hermione had chosen for herself. There were bound to be things in her life that she could no longer share, just as Harry and Ron were hoping to be sworn into the community of Aurors where secrecy was the way of life.

 _I wish Ginny would just recognize that instead of being such a massive pain in the arse..._

He was distracted from his thoughts a moment later when two more witches appeared before the row of high windows and the ambient conversation level dropped momentarily.

Andromeda Tonks stood next to Narcissa Malfoy, and Ron fought not to broadcast his surprise. Hiding his reaction by stroking his beard, he sat back and saw a number of other faces registering their surprise and for a few, suspicion.

A moment later, however, everyone's attention shifted as the large oak doors at the other end of the room opened and Headmistress Minerva McGonagall strode through, looking calm and assured - her elegant emerald robes and aristocratic features betraying little indication that she had changed since Ron had last seen her, nearly a year and a half ago.

"Good evening," she said by way of greeting, nodding as a chorus of voices rose in answer. Even though the witch spoke rather softly, her voice seemed to carry effortlessly and Ron noted how the entire table seemed to lean forward expectantly. _The mark of a natural leader,_ he thought.

The Headmistress folded her hands behind her back, standing behind her chair as everyone hurried to find a seat, turning slightly and settling in to give her their full attention.

The witch waited for the last bits of side chatter to die down before lifting her chin slightly.

"Each of you has received a letter outlining the seriousness of our meeting tonight. I thank you all for taking the time out of your lives to answer my summons and to consider the information I will present shortly. Though we may not all recognize each other, I wish to affirm my conviction and belief in each one of you… " The witch gazed around the table slowly, her green eyes meeting each person carefully, and as the familiar piercing gaze reached him, Ron felt himself straighten a little taller.

"It is my hope that you will keep an open mind throughout our meeting. The decisions to be made afterward are left to each individual. I make no secret of the fact that my information is incomplete, however I should hope we can agree on a mutual course of action to counter any effects of Darkness that seek to threaten our world and community."

The seriousness of the charge seemed to weigh upon the room and Ron glanced around to see everyone responding to the Headmistress' words with the same sense of resolve.

"Before we begin our meeting, I would like to take a moment to make a few specific introductions to our company and then I shall get down to business," the Headmistress said briskly, moving a chair aside and stepping into the chair at the head of the table. Her familiar silver spectacles gleamed in the bright candlelight and everyone waited as she pulled forth a parchment that appeared to have a list of names.

"Renata Montvoisin, if you would be so kind as to stand?"

The elegant witch in lime-green robes that Ron had noticed earlier slowly rose. She looked to be in her mid-sixties, with olive skin and tastefully coiffed white hair that somehow managed to set off the loud robes rather nicely.

"Some of you may recognize Renata from visits to St. Mungo's Hospital," Headmistress McGonagall explained, giving the witch a small smile. "Renata has long been an ally of the Order of the Phoenix and many of us at this table are indebted to her expertise. I have asked her here as a formal acknowledgement of her assistance to our cause over the years. Thank you, Renata."

"La Voisin," Wickleffe murmured softly, giving the witch next to him a cheeky smile as she sat gracefully. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I've _never_ heard that before," the witch replied sarcastically, earning a few chuckles. Ron frowned and Gawain leaned close.

"La Voisin was the nickname of a French witch who was burned for heresy in the seventeenth century," he murmured, sniffing lightly. "She specialized in poisons."

Ron's eyes flicked back to the lime-green Healer's robes and he nodded at the irony. _That's gotta get old…_

"Talfryn?"

To Ron's far right, the silver-haired wizard next to Hestia Jones rose with a flourish, giving a gallant little bow. Ron thought his silver goatee made him look like a rather pleasant evil genius.

"Mr. Hawtrey has taken over my post as Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts, however prior to that appointment, he has completed a considerable amount of research abroad and is well-connected in many ways that cross international borders," Headmistress McGonagall explained.

The Hogwarts professors had taken over the right end of the table and they began murmuring amongst each other even as the wizard sat back.

"Master Kallas?"

Hermione's mentor stood calmly and once again, Ron found himself appreciating the petite witch's exotic beauty. While she seemed quite delicate wrapped in her royal robes, he found himself frowning slightly as something in her posture seemed to reveal a bit more strength. _Nearly as mysterious as McG..._

"Some of you may recall Master Diamantina Kallas from her participation in the Order during the First War. She and Apprentice Granger have traveled a long way, and they have graciously agreed to contribute their expertise to the discussion tonight."

Ron took note of the deliberate phrasing and slowly turned to exchange a meaningful glance with Harry. _What if Hermione doesn't stay to help?  
_  
Harry's gaze seemed troubled.

"Narcissa?"

Automatically, Ron found himself glancing toward Hermione again, who was watching the blonde-haired witch rise with a remarkable amount of serenity that seemed to match her master's. Narcissa herself was looking exclusively at the Headmistress, her porcelain features set rather severely as if she expected to hear a chorus of protesting voices at any moment. Ron decided that he felt rather sorry for her.

"I have asked Narcissa to join us for a multitude of reasons, the least of which is for her unerring devotion to the side of Light despite assurances you may have perceived to indicate otherwise. Mistress Black has agreed to share important intelligence that will be discussed shortly."

He exchanged a subtle look with Neville, the both of them surprised by the intimation that the witch possessed a Mastery of some sort. Ron hadn't been surprised that Narcissa had decided to return to her maiden name, and surprisingly he found, it made him feel a bit more reassured at her unexpected presence.

"Very well, I believe we are all met." The Headmistress moved the sheet of parchment and opened her folder, everyone else at the table quickly moving to follow.

"Minerva, if I may?" Kingsley Shacklebolt's booming tones fell across the momentary silence and the witch nodded her assent to the wizard sitting to her immediate right.

Ron looked up to see the Minister of Magic rise, his large brown eyes already betraying tendrils of regret.

"I wished to express my deep condolences to each of you _personally…_ upon being unable to formally accept the invitation to rejoin the Order," he began, gazing around the room. Ron felt his heart sink even as a number of heads were already nodding in understanding, his parents' included.

"Regretfully, I feel my position as Minister of Magic falls into direct conflict with the needs of the Order and while I am immensely grateful for Minerva's leadership and foresight, I think it will be best for all if I continue my duties in an official capacity so that there can be no question of the direction of the Ministry and the integrity of its Minister. I will do my best to ensure that the pathways will remain clear for your continued efforts, however I cannot in good conscience be in two places at once. I thank you all for your consideration of tonight's summons… Be well."

The tall wizard gave a firm nod and a small bow toward the Headmistress even as a number of people murmured their understanding and appreciation.

"Thank you, Kingsley." The Headmistress rose smoothly, her lips curving into an understanding smile and immediately Ron understood that she had already been appraised of the Minister's decision. They shook hands firmly.

Kingsley looked around the room once more before Disapparating with a crack.

Even as the wizard disappeared, Ron felt the energy in the room shift... there was a communal acknowledgement that whatever was about to be presented, it was either complicated or dangerous enough that their own Minister didn't want to be involved. He felt a prickle at the back of his neck and had to actively work not to shiver.

Swallowing a feeling of unease, Ron sat back and gave the Headmistress his full attention.


	29. Chapter 29

_A/N: Buckle up. It's going to be a bumpy ride..._

* * *

Hermione felt remarkably calm even as Kingsley Shacklebolt swiftly departed.

It was a logical move on his part and she didn't blame the stately wizard one bit. While others at the table appeared to be gazing at Minerva with a mix of fear and suspicion, Hermione found herself bizarrely reassured. If anyone was going to be taking over leadership of the Order, she found that she trusted Minerva implicitly.

Though their bond, Hermione was able to discern that Master Kallas' emotions were equally subdued. She hadn't missed the subtle introduction that Minerva had made on their shared behalf. It seemed that while Master Kallas had agreed to answer the summons, the final verdict on their impending participation was still out and while Hermione felt a distant coil of concern that she would have to soon choose between her studies and her community in Great Britain, she had pushed it away - resolving to remain as objective as possible on her master's behalf.

Hermione's attention was brought back to the present as Minerva shifted, her fingers steepling on the table before them as she moved to speak.

"As many or most of you are aware, Filius Flitwick and I have recently returned from an emergency convocation of the International Confederation of Wizards," Minerva began. "We were called together to respond to the five violations of the International Statute of Secrecy - the collapse of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, the vandalization of the statue of Christ the Redeemer in Río de Janeiro, the collapse of the cathedral domes at St. Basil's in St. Petersburg, the partial collapse of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, and finally, the explosion that destroyed the central concert hall at the Sydney Opera House in Australia."

The table remained silent as the communal energy grew somber, though everyone's eyes were still fixed upon the witch in emerald green, waiting for her to continue.

"At the moment, the ICW's final assessment of the five violations of the ISOS is ongoing. Emergency procedures were quickly enacted and continue to unfold, and for the moment we are confident that the Wizarding community is safe. The majority of our meeting was devoted to organizing relief measures for the affected cities and working with the individual countries in question to assess the level of visibility and damage," Minerva paused and drew a breath. Hermione imagined that she was perhaps steadying herself.

"At this time, however, I have no reason to believe that the ICW will be successful in identifying the perpetrators at large. From the scale of the events, preliminary reports suggest between twenty to thirty wands were involved in several of the attacks - it remains unknown as to their underlying agenda, however my own estimates would increase those numbers to forty or fifty wands."

There were a few murmurs at that, and Hermione felt a dim flash of amusement as she and Master Kallas immediately reached forward to quickly jot down their notes.

 _Forty or fifty wands seems rather well-organized,_ she thought worriedly.

Minerva continued.

"These figures in themselves are chilling. At the very least, it indicates the obvious threat of well-organized violent intention. Violations of this magnitude do not bode well in terms of logistics. Several of the affected sites possessed incredibly complex warding which would have required highly-skilled wands at the ready… the Sagrada Familia alone _should_ have required nearly fifty wands to destabilize and yet - three spires managed to fall, also resulting in the death of the lead Wizarding Architect, Theodotus Ambrozaitys," Minerva explained, her round contralto tones betraying the depth of her concern.

Emerald eyes seemed to cool slightly and Minerva lifted her chin.

"At the moment, events seem to preclude any direct correlation to Great Britain. However, my own intelligence suggests that a new global threat is amassing and it is only a matter of time before we are drawn into conflict again, this time one that may have lasting international consequences," Minerva paused and Hermione watched as her eyes flashed around the table. The witch leaned forward slightly and despite her relatively slender frame, Hermione noted how those closest to her unconsciously moved back - making room for the commanding presence before them.

"I do not intend my words to be inflammatory. At this moment I admit that I do not have all of the concrete answers that you may seek. However, I _firmly_ believe that more information is needed in order to make an appropriate threat assessment and it would be prudent to develop defense strategies that can be enacted _now_."

The silence in the room was deafening as the weight of the witch's words continued to resound.

A moment later, Minerva relaxed slightly and sat forward, steepling her hands atop the table.

"Therefore, I will ask your continued patience as I call forward a few of our company to contribute their own observations to the discussion," she finished in clipped tones. Her elegant hands moved a few papers in the folder before her.

A pause. "Gawain?"

Hermione recognized the name as being that of Gawain Robards, the former Head of the Auror Office and present Head of the Auror Academy. Toward the middle of the table, the rather handsome wizard next to Ron rose smoothly and gave a gruff nod.

"Many of you know that the other Aurors and I have been working hard to clean up the mess left by Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters," he began. "While a number of them were sent to Azkaban for their crimes, we've also been forced to release several unsavory folks back into the general population under heavy surveillance due to insufficient evidence for their crimes. Additionally, there were a number that fled the country and while we've done our best to keep track of them, our wands and resources were severely depleted during the War."

There were a number of solemn nods and Hermione felt her own thoughts turn to Mad-Eye, Tonks, and a host of other good people who had fallen in battle.

"Many of you recall the name of Antonin Dolohov as having been a major player in Voldemort's upper circle during both Wars," Gawain said, drawing her out of her memories.

She felt a spike of fear and anger run through her at the mention of the wizard's name and a moment later, Master Kallas' warm hand was resting on her knee beneath the table. Smoothing her expression carefully, Hermione grasped it.

"Unfortunately, in the midst of the chaos we discovered that Dolohov fled the Final Battle and escaped to Bucharest where our Aurors were unable to pick up his trail. We put out a BOLO for him throughout the surrounding European Auror offices, but there weren't any hits. Two weeks ago, out of nowhere, his wand signature was recorded in Istanbul at an elite gentleman's club. It seems Dolohov has manage to adopt a new wand, and that _same_ wand was cross-referenced and recorded as having been involved in the collapse of St. Basil's Cathedral in St. Petersburg," Gawain said smoothly.

There were a number of murmurs at that, and at the far end of the table, Professors Vector and Flitwick seemed to be writing furiously.

 _Istanbul… that is so close to Greece_ , Hermione thought fearfully. Beneath the table, Master Kallas squeezed her hand again in reassurance. A pleasant sensation suddenly flooded through her and a moment later, she found herself releasing a breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding. Releasing the witch's hand, Hermione sat forward again. _Focus._

"Narcissa?" Minerva looked to her right and the platinum-haired witch nodded and stood.

"As you may imagine, I have slightly… different resources," the witch began, lifting her chin in an aristocratic manner that instantly brought Draco to mind. The witch's eyes raked across the table carefully and for a moment, Hermione felt her heart go out to the woman. On the opposite side of the table, she saw Molly Weasley's lips thin even as Arthur patted his wife's forearm, and farther down the table, Fleur and Percy were exchanging a few mutters.

"I have it on good authority that Dolohov has joined a new organization. The same people of whom Minerva speaks, though as of yet they have no clear location nor visible agenda. Dolohov has a large network of friends spreading through Macedonia, Bulgaria, and Turkey. I have understood through my sources that he has created a new home base in Varna, near the Black Sea coast. It seems that recently, he has amassed a small fortune in selling rather rare items from Central America, a rather… _curious_ coincidence." The witch cast a cool glance toward Minerva who nodded, and then she sat slowly.

Though the last sentence was confusing, Hermione was immediately incensed as a number of side-conversations started up, including Gawain and her two friends. The boys' mentor seemed dubious.

"Thank you, Narcissa," Hermione found herself saying clearly, feeling the looks of surprise. She hadn't forgotten the woman's kindness. Clear blue eyes zeroed in on her quickly, softening slightly even as the witch responded with a small nod.

"Narcissa's intelligence brings me to another piece of the puzzle," Minerva said swiftly, cutting through the side chatter. The conversations faded and everyone's focus turned toward the head of the table.

"I was recently notified that I may have a _personal_ connection to the events at hand." The witch paused and Hermione thought she saw a flutter of guilt pass across Minerva's features before it was abruptly buried.

"Petrus D'Artagnan was my apprentice, nearly thirty years ago. He was a brilliant wizard… headstrong, intuitive, incredibly talented. However our agreement did not work and I was forced to dismiss him," Minerva said slowly. Beside her, Hermione felt Master Kallas tense, even as Molly Weasley gasped in surprise.

To be dismissed from a Mastery was… incredibly rare. Though Hermione understood that it was common for Mastery contracts to be mutually dissolved at the agreement of both parties, abject dismissal was an indication of extreme impropriety. Once dismissed, a person was rarely allowed back into their Society as it was a clear indication of a lack of moral conduct. Distantly, Hermione wondered what a person would have to do to cross Minerva McGonagall...

"It has come to my attention that D'Artagnan's wand was recently tracked very similarly to Dolohov. He was last seen in Guatemala close to where a noted American witch and archaeologist, Elizabeth Waterhouse has gone missing," Minerva explained. She gestured toward her folder and everyone pulled out a map of the country in question where two glowing points indicated the wand signature and the missing witch. The correlation seemed rather clear.

Hermione felt a strong thrum at recognizing the name from the article she had pulled. _I knew it…_

Next to her, Master Kallas shifted slightly at feeling her realization and immediately Hermione felt a wave of chagrin. _You should have said something…_

A moment later she was forced to suspend her thoughts as Minerva continued, her expression solemn.

"I do not believe it to be a coincidence that both D'Artagnan and Dolohov have found business on the other side of the Atlantic. Moreover, I suspect that the five ISOS violations were a diversion… a grand spectacle, if you will, to divert global attention away from their true goals," Minerva paused and sighed. "Unfortunately, as of yet, I do not know what those goals may entail, however I suspect that there are clues to be found in Central America."

Silence fell over the table and Hermione found slightly herself overwhelmed by the information at hand.

Rather than attempt to unravel the mystery that had been presented, she found herself observing the faces around the table.

A number were pensive. Harry and Ron appeared to be having a silent conversation with meaningful looks. Fleur looked rather ill, murmuring softly with Bill and Percy, while George listened quietly. Toward the end of the table, Sturgis Podmore appeared to be somewhat agitated - his large fingers drumming on the table rather anxiously.

"At this time, I must ask for your thoughts," Minerva said softly, her gaze clear and bright… though something in her energy told Hermione that the witch was incredibly tired.

There was a moment of silence as everyone looked around, wondering who would break the silence first.

"Have there been any more indications at the local level to suggest impending unrest?" The question came from the Healer to her right. _Renata,_ her mind quickly supplied.

"Perhaps, I can answer that," Gawain replied as he leaned forward. "At the moment, I cannot divulge the particulars… however there have been three unexplained disappearances within our community in the last two weeks. While there is nothing yet to indicate any sort of tie to the events we are discussing, I have to admit that the timing is indeed suspect."

Renata nodded and Hermione watched with narrowed eyes as Harry and Ron exchanged a look. _There's more to that than Gawain just said._

Briefly her own sense of irritation flashed at the boys' behavior. _They need to learn to be more discreet._

"I can confirm Gawain's concern." Arthur Weasley sat forward, his typically jovial features rather drawn. Quickly Hermione recalled that the Weasley patriarch had been relocated to a smaller office within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"The disappearances are concerning, though at the moment there has been nothing to indicate foul-play. Let us hope they amount to careless planning. However, after listening to the conversation at hand I think it prudent to mention that there has been a significant increase in the number of anomalous instances of Muggle Obliviations in the past several months. Our department has been working to understand the increase, however they have all been rather small violations in the grand scheme of things and they have been too spread out to indicate anything serious."

Hermione felt a surge of anger at Mr. Weasley's wording, though she knew rationally he hadn't meant anything by it. Wizards were far too quick to dismiss crimes against Muggles.

 _'Small violations'? There is nothing **small** about violating someone's mind without permission._

"However, I feel it prudent to mention that the majority of violations have occurred rather close to Wizarding communities spread across Britain, many of which host a Ministry presence. In terms of our present conversation, it could indicate a subtle play for information gathering."

Mr. Weasley seemed troubled by his own words and he exchanged a dark glance with the wizard sitting immediately to Hermione's right who seemed to be another Auror.

Minerva's eyes had immediately narrowed and she along with a number of others at the table including Gawain, Master Kallas, and Hermione herself, quickly bent forward to jot down their notes.

"If I may? Eet is not a local issue… but I worry zat it will soon become a European problem," Fleur spoke up and sat forward slightly, her beautiful expression marred by a deep frown.

"Az you all know… my family iz still in France. Our Ministry iz not so organized, if you will. Like ze Ministry 'ere during ze War, zere are a number of challenges we are dealing with. When I spoke with my Maman zis week she told me zat zere iz a new issue. Our community iz most upset with ze ICW… ze Pureblood Houses in Parlement wish to… 'ow you say? _Faire sécession?_ "

"Secede," Hermione and Master Kallas said together. Fleur nodded.

"Ah, oui. Ze French wish to secede from ze ICW. Zey theenk zat ze ICW does not provide eenough protection and zere is much anger over ze politics of ze Sagrada Familia. Zey wish to close ze borders and remain self-governing. Zis would furzer zeir agenda toward Pureblood… _suprématie_ ," she finished, causing an immediate spike in side conversations.

"What would be the result of that?" Hestia Jones asked incredulously, turning to look down the table. "If France were to secede from the ICW?"

Everyone looked to Minerva who nodded toward Professor Flitwick who sat directly opposite of her down at the other end. The smaller wizard looked pensive, one hand stroking his chin absently.

"Well… I can imagine it would cause a great deal of international pressure," he mused slowly. "Though, France would have no leverage to _actually_ secede unless they could convince other countries to agree. The ICW would institute immediate lock-down procedures and forcibly impose martial law on the French Parliament if they felt it threatened the ISOS."

"Do you imagine other countries could be made to agree?" Dedalus Diggle spoke up, his high-pitched voice rather shrill.

Professor Flitwick made to reply, but surprisingly it was Ron who held up a hand for recognition. The small wizard seemed surprised but he gave a wave of his hand that indicated her friend should go ahead.

"I may have just figured out a potential goal of the international perpetrators," Ron said grimly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. Beside him, Gawain Robards had a pensive expression, but he sat back to listen with a deferential confidence that suggested he trusted whatever Ron was about to share. _Interesting dynamic, there._

"Look. As a strategy, it's quite simple. Five countries were violated to prove a point - that this group, whoever they are, are stronger than the individual governments they managed to attack. They chose prominent cultural landmarks as their targets and managed to plant a seed of doubt in the public perception," Ron began, brows furrowed in concentration.

"At first, everyone puts the blame on their country, right? Everyone's up in arms, calling out different things - The MACUSA didn't step up in San Fran! Spanish Parliament couldn't protect the Sagrada Familia! The Australian Bureau lost us the Opera House! So it goes, right? Meanwhile, who steps in to help out? The ICW."

Ron's focus was somewhere in the middle of the table as he spoke, and though his eyes were unfocused, Hermione suddenly had the impression that her friend was looking down upon a large chess game in his mind. She felt a swell of pride.

"At first, everything is great. The ICW swoops in and looks like heroes for protecting the ISOS. Everything goes back to normal, but the seed is still there, right? Each of those affected countries now has a problem because the public has an underlying belief that their ministries can't protect them. So what then?" Ron looked up and glanced around the now-silent table.

"Strategically, it's time for the group to put out another wave. Destabilize other world powers in a similar manner, but maybe make it a bit more personal. Rather than physical locations, maybe they attack a little deeper. A public gathering of some sort, I dunno. And then it happens again. And again. More countries need to turn to the ICW to cover up the disturbances and more members of the public start to doubt their own governments."

Hermione felt a chill run through the air and a number of people were beginning to shift uncomfortably. At her side, Master Kallas remained perfectly still, her beautiful features schooled into a mask of serenity.

"Then, all it takes is a little nudge."

Ron scooted forward, his robes ruffling slightly as his gaze again dissolved toward into a nebulous thinking space.

"People begin by attacking their own governments. Elections are called for and it's time to put in the right players… The group slides their people into positions of power and sets the stage for an even bigger change. Because once all of these individual countries and governments are headed by people from their own party, they can all arrive to the same conclusion. And then we get at what the French Purebloods want right now - a destabilization of the ICW. And if the ICW is forced to step down due to international pressure… perhaps the ultimate goal is to have someone else waiting at the ready to step up."

The table fell silent as Ron finished, his blue eyes coming up quickly even as he looked around, taking in everyone's surprise and horror. Everyone, including Hermione herself, seemed to be frozen in shock. _Merlin and Morgana…_

"Minerva?" Andromeda Tonks spoke up in question, turning to the head of the table.

A moment later, everyone's focus followed and Hermione saw her former mentor staring at Ron with narrowed eyes.

"Mr. Weasley's assessment is… grandiose," she began dryly, eliciting a few chuckles. However, a moment later, Minerva sat forward and fixed Ron with an intense gaze. "But his argument is sound."

The side chatter rose to a higher level even as Hermione felt herself deflate. To her left, Master Kallas was writing a few notes in Greek, the cursive too complicated for her to read. Across the table, Molly and Arthur Weasley were in conversation with Andromeda while Narcissa listened in distantly.

Everyone seemed to be conflicted. _It couldn't be true, could it?_

A moment later, her master set down her quill, turning to gaze into her eyes with a soft, but resolute expression.

"Peace, darling. There are many variables that remain unknown. Your friend's is but one eventuality," Master Kallas murmured quietly, her hand running across Hermione's thigh again reassuringly.

"But you do acknowledge it's a possibility," she whispered in reply. Seafoam eyes seemed impossibly large and something passed through them that Hermione couldn't read. Their faces were quite close.

Tiredly, Hermione sat back to find Minerva watching the two of them quietly. The green gaze quickly flicked away.

Before her master could reply, there was a sharp crack as Minerva flicked her wand impatiently. Rose lips were pressed into a thin line as she gestured toward the other end of the room.

"There are many ways the cards could be dealt," Professor Vector's voice cut through the conversation and the black-haired witch moved forward slightly, waiting for the noise to die down.

"Filius and I have been running calculations over here and the figures show the strongest probabilities that speak to an international web of events close to what Mr. Weasley has just described," Professor Vector spoke solemnly, her words falling across the table like a heavy blanket.

A moment later the witch held up a finger even as she gazed down toward her scratch parchment that was alight with glowing symbols and runes that Hermione couldn't read from a distance.

"That is not to say events will unfold exactly as predicted, but it does seem clear that the layers of international coefficients suggest that one of the underlying goals of the acting perpetrators is the destabilization of government upon multiple levels."

There were a few murmured conversations as everyone processed those grim calculations. Arithmancy was a difficult art and one that Hermione had once loved dearly. While she didn't have the effort to map the current situation, she trusted her former professor's expertise and the additional insight they had provided.

A glance to her left saw Master Kallas exchanging a meaningful look with Professor Vector. There was a history between the two witches that Hermione didn't understand, though it was clear that her former professor was Greek by birth and the two witches had likely known each other for quite some time. _Focus on the task at hand! There's time for questions later!_

"What about what we said before? That the violations were just a distraction from something else?" Though they were separated by a number of people, Hermione recognized Ginny's clear voice and a moment later, the conversations paused as a number of heads swiveled to see who would answer the question.

"Those who search for absolute power must have foolproof means of enacting their authority once challenged," Master Kallas replied calmly, turning to look down the table toward her friend.

"Grindelwald sought the Elder Wand. Voldemort created Horcruxes and sought all three of the Deathly Hallows. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say there is a simultaneous search underway for Dark resources that may help enforce absolute power once it is seized," her master said clearly. Hermione caught a glimpse of Ginny's expression which, unsurprisingly, appeared to be anger. She bit back a sigh. _You have work to do there, that's for sure._

Harry and Gawain sat back slightly, drawing close together as they spoke quickly. At the other end of the table Professor Sprout was nodding with narrowed eyes. Abruptly, her master's words shook something loose and Hermione found herself leaning forward.

"I may have something to add on that note," Hermione spoke up suddenly with her realization, even as she looked to her master for permission. Behind the confident seafoam gaze, she saw a small question, but the witch gave her a small nod.

Looking forward again, Hermione saw a number of curious stares.

"The night of the ISOS violations, there was a simultaneous break-in at the Library of Alexandria," she began. At the other end of the table she saw the Hogwarts professors break out in furious scratching again, while to her right, Minerva sat forward intently.

"There was short article in the French newspaper that appeared to indicate that there was a brief disturbance in the warding in a small branch of the Library devoted to documentation of Ancient Artifacts. Perhaps someone was looking for materials that could help them do as you say," she said, turning toward her master.

"That could connect to Guatemala. The country was host to the Maya civilization for which there has long been evidence to support ancient Wizarding activity. The Library holds one of the largest collection of Mayan artifacts in their subterranean vaults," Master Kallas responded, her eyes narrowing as she thought out loud.

"Indeed." They turned together to see that Minerva's brow was deeply furrowed.

"It seems logical to me. Voldemort went about his research a similar way - 'cept he turned to European lore to get at the Elder Wand," Harry said.

Her master's musical gave voice to her thoughts.

"Why develop new materials, when what better resource -"

"- than the great civilizations of the past," Hermione finished, looking back at Master Kallas solemnly.

At the head of the table, Minerva sat forward and steepled her hands again in a gesture that was quickly becoming familiar. Everyone at the table shifted their attention again, having remained silent through Hermione's short exchange with Master Kallas. Most everyone boasted the same concerned expression.

"Well… it seems we have exercised more of our creative abilities tonight than I had initially anticipated. Thank you, those of you who have contributed to the discussion," Minerva paused to take a breath, her gaze sliding down toward the center of the table and Hermione had the distinct impression that the witch was somewhat fearful of whatever she was about to say next.

"It seems we have combed through several possibilities regarding both international and local events. I wish I could offer more than simple points of conjecture, however at this time I must move our meeting forward and proceed by asking you all to take two actions."

Hermione felt herself straighten as the emerald gaze swept around the table, the witch's elegant features a mask of stoicism.

"The first is a vote. Whether you elect to join the Order or not, I trust in each and every one of you to use your best judgment to discern whether or not there has been enough evidence presented tonight to rationalize the reinstatement of the third incarnation of the Order of the Phoenix."

Minerva looked around the room carefully.

"Would anyone like to add anything further?" she asked.

Heads swiveled from side to side, but no one spoke up. Unexpectedly, Hermione felt a wave of anxiety crash over her.

"Very well. At this time, would you please raise your wand if you believe that enough sufficient evidence has been presented tonight to warrant the Order's reinstatement."

Biting back a wave of nausea, Hermione lifted her wand. A moment later she looked around, taking note of the faces around her - a combination of resignation, concern, and resolve...

Every single wand was lifted.

"Thank you." Minerva appeared to visibly relax at the vote of confidence and she sniffed lightly.

"Now, I take no pleasure in this, but as we are all in agreement, I must ask you all to swear an Oath of Secrecy," she paused, her eyes flashing quickly before continuing.

"Let me be clear that this is not an official binding contract of your participation, merely an effort to keep our discussion tonight under wraps. At this time, I defer to my trust in each of you. The penalty for breaking the Oath is simply the knowledge that I will be notified of your transgression immediately and that you will have to deal with _me_."

Gawain guffawed loudly and there were a few chuckles, including a light sniff from her own master. Hermione found herself smiling lightly.

"Are there any objections?"

A chorus of emphatic "no's" reached her ears, and Minerva nodded. Though her expression remained impenetrable, Hermione had the distinct impression that the green gaze was rather pleased.

A moment later everyone stood together and extended their wand.

Minerva began chanting in a low voice - the musical language sounded like Gaelic to her ears, and Hermione felt a bolt of energy leave her body, running down the length of her arm like a livewire, and out the tip of her wand. A stream of golden light left her wand, joining with everyone else's as it rose toward the ceiling in a spiraling oval of energy, the blinding reflection glinting off high windows.

At the head of the table, Minerva's wrists flicked gracefully, like the gentle ministrations of a dancer or artist. She watched spellbound as the glow of active magic lit the witch's face, making her seem angelic or otherworldly for a brief moment…

And then abruptly it was finished and Hermione felt a sharp disconnect as her wand dropped a few inches in response. It was like detaching from a strong magnetic pull.

Both she and Master Kallas immediately holstered their wands, sitting in unison in a way that Hermione found both amusing and a bit unnerving. She hadn't realized how very different her own actions were until she felt the eyes of her friends weighing upon her.

"Now then, as the hour draws late, I believe a few courses of action are recommended," Minerva said, one hand lifting to adjust her spectacles in a familiar manner.

Everyone appeared to be somewhat rejuvenated from the magic of the Oath, but at the mention of the hour, Hermione realized that with the time difference, it was quickly becoming late. She realized just how bone-weary she felt.

"At this time, I believe our company requires further intelligence. There is evidence to suggest that whomever the amassing forces are, their Dark agenda is spread upon two levels. The first, a large-scale destabilization of international governing agencies, meaning it would be most prudent for the Order to secure assurances in our own Ministry's ability to ward off potential infiltrators and attacks. The second, a potential a sub-plot to unearth ancient methods of enacting absolute power," Minerva summarized, green eyes reading quickly through her notes.

"I recommend that we focus our intelligence in three places. Petrus D'Artagnan, Antonin Dolohov, and the break-in in Alexandria," Gawain Robards stated calmly, leaning back in a way that seemed almost casual… though his dark blue eyes narrowed in a manner that Hermione knew belied a quick mind.

"Those of us at the Ministry can put out feelers to assess where our government stands in terms of preparedness for any potential attack, though at the moment I hold quite a high level of confidence following Kingsley's swath of inquiries."

Minerva nodded her agreement as Percy piped in with a rather pompous, "here here!"

"I am already on assignment investigating a number of purported Death Eaters. I can likely find a way to make Dolohov a... _personal_ priority," Wickleffe Temple spoke up to Hermione's right, nodding to Minerva before raising his eyebrows toward Gawain who also nodded an affirmative.

"Good call, Wick. I can send you one of my international contacts as back-up… wouldn't want you getting caught up in red tape once you leave our borders," Gawain added good-naturedly.

"I can also ask around in my own circles. I've got a good partnership going with a bloke in Romania who might know more about the intel Mistress Black has brought forth. I'll see if I can dig up any other information on Dolohov's new business arrangements," George Weasley said, his eyebrows waggling suggestively. Across the table Ron sniffed lightly and shook his head.

"Very good. Dolohov's name is the closest connection we have to discovering the identity of this new group. However, I know I don't need to instruct you to proceed with caution. At this point, anything you can learn that can tell us more about the people we are dealing with will be crucial toward unraveling their agenda," Minerva said swiftly, her solemn stare traveling between the men in question.

They nodded their assent, including Gawain, Ron, and Harry; Hermione didn't miss the deferential way in which her friends responded the older wizard's words and actions. _It seems I am not the only one with a master..._

"A number of us at Hogwarts can see to lifting information about the break-in at the Library in Alexandria," Hestia Jones put forth, her eyes flicking between her companions at the other end of the table. Professor Sprout was nodding.

Minerva shifted slightly before giving a nod of acquiescence.

"Very well, however I do not need to remind you that your investigation should not interfere with your duties at Hogwarts," she replied sternly. Professor Flitwick echoed her words with a nod.

"'Course not, Minerva!" Hestia chirped quickly. To her left, her silver-haired wizard companion leaned forward and fixed Minerva with a conspiratorial look.

"You're just saying that because we have a curriculum meeting next week and you don't want to hear any excuses if we don't submit our reports on time!"

The ebony-haired witch lifted an elegant eyebrow in reply.

"That's exactly right," she deadpanned, drawing a number of chuckles from around the room.

"I've got a frien' in Cairo that might be able ter rustle up summore information too. Good wizard. Works for the Egyp'ian Department o'... err… somethin' ter do wit' ancient monuments an' stuff," Hagrid said, bumping Harry slightly as he rocked forward in his chair. "I'll give 'im a call an' see if he's got anythin' helpful."

"Thank you, Hagrid," Minerva replied with a half-smile.

Hermione felt buoyed by the responses of everyone at the table. A plan of action seemed to be coming together rather swiftly and it began to chip away at the anxiety that had sprung forth in her gut.

"I can see to gathering further intelligence in Central America," Renata Montvoisin said swiftly. "There is a Healer's conference in Mexico City the week after next. It would be simple for me to slip away and investigate the situation in Guatemala further."

Minerva opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a musical voice to Hermione's left.

"As can I. I am rather adept at blending in and I speak Spanish fluently. I may also recognize Petrus D'Artagnan's spellwork."

Hermione bit her tongue to keep from revealing her surprise as Master Kallas' offer fell smoothly upon the table to a number of surprised glances. It seemed her Master possessed her own agenda. The witch leaned forward slightly to peer around Hermione at the Healer to their right.

"Perhaps we can coordinate?" Master Kallas suggested, her expression open. Hermione was surprised when the other witch leaned back slightly, glancing at her master with thinly veiled distaste.

"While I appreciate the offer, I can certainly see to arrangements on my own. There is no need to call in the cavalry," Renata replied with just a tinge of sarcasm. Hermione felt a surge of anger. _Keep your pride and ego out of it, witch!_

"At the moment, we need more information," Minerva cut in briskly. "Two heads are better than one. I leave it to the two of you to make any arrangements as necessary. It is up to you whether or not you coordinate, however it is _paramount_ that we do not tip our hand early. I want absolutely _no_ contact with anyone who may be directly involved. There are too many variables at play. At the first sign of trouble, you are to leave immediately."

The two witches nodded their understanding even as Renata fluffed her robes slightly. Master Kallas picked up her quill and returned to writing quietly, the picture of perfect calm. Hermione quietly pressed a hand to her master's knee.

"Very well, it seems we have several plans of action," Minerva said in a satisfied tone, glancing down toward her notes. The atmosphere in the room seemed to be a bit brighter as everyone felt reassured by taking a measure of action.

"At present I see no need for further discussion, though any and all additional, or potentially relevant information is helpful. I encourage all of you to remain vigilant and attentive to the communities you inhabit and the world at large. Any intuitive leaps you may feel at this point could give us the working advantage. Do not hesitate to contact me should you feel you have something to contribute," Minerva said carefully, her voice calm. Emerald eyes swept across the table and Hermione felt herself nod in response to the earnest words.

"I will also ask that each of you consider the gravity of the Order's new charge. You have been asked here tonight because I value each and every opinion of those sitting here now, however I must know for certain, which of you are prepared to engage in the difficult and potentially dangerous work of the Order over the next several weeks and months."

Hermione felt her heart still, feeling a plummeting sensation in the pit of her stomach that infused her with fear. _What do I choose?_

"I would ask that you mark your calendars for another meeting on December 7th barring any further complications," Minerva said slowly. "I will contact you regarding further arrangements, however Portkeys will be sent in a similar manner to tonight's summons. At our next meeting, I will expect those who are joining to take the formal Oath swearing allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix. I remind you that it is a binding Oath and you will tie your wand to the communal decisions and needs of the Order. For simplicity's sake, we shall again convene here."

"Where _are_ we, anyway?" Ron asked, his eyebrows lifting even as he gazed around the room with a bit of awe. The honest question seemed to undercut the seriousness of Minerva's request and there were a few chuckles. Surprisingly, Minerva's lips curled into a small smile.

"The Old Manse, as my mother once called it," she replied in low tones. "I thought it prudent to meet in a neutral location. Seeing as the wards of Grimmauld Place were disturbed in the aftermath of the war, it was the first place I could think to convene a meeting that would be both discreet and assuredly secure. My family home seemed to be the obvious option."

Ron nodded, clearly impressed, while Harry's brow furrowed even as he sat forward.

"Number 12 is undergoing pretty extensive renovations at the moment, but I'm hoping that by the first of the year that it will be up and running again and fully operational. I have assurance from some of the best resources that the Fidelius wards can be reinstated," Harry said confidently, his gaze sliding toward Gawain for a moment before her friend regarded Minerva with a peculiar expression that Hermione couldn't place.

"It would be an honor to host future meetings if that would meet with your approval, ma'am," Harry finished, softly.

Hermione felt her heart soften. _Oh Harry…_

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. That is a very generous offer," Minerva replied, her eyes warm.

There were a number of small smiles scattered across the room as others undoubtedly thought back to the many memories held at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Despite the heavy backdrop of the war, the drafty old house had played host to a number of light hearted moments and entertaining events.

Harry had mentioned in his previous letters to her that he, Ginny, Ron, and Kreacher had been working on the house's renovations in their spare time. With surprise, Hermione realized that it was a project that she would very much like to see… and she found herself hoping that it would come to pass.

"Are there any questions?"

Hermione took a deep breath, briefly glancing at her Master who was sitting properly, her beautiful features relaxed into her trademark serene expression. _I have questions... but none that can be answered here_ , she thought, wondering what her Master intended.

The table remained silent and Minerva nodded accordingly.

"Very well, then I hereby declare this meeting adjourned. Thank you all for coming. The Manse's wards will now permit you to Apparate to wherever you should require. If you would prefer the Floo, I would ask that you pass through The Burrow first, which Arthur and Molly Weasley have graciously permitted us to use as a transfer point allowing our location tonight to remain a secret," she said. A moment later, elegant hands quickly arranged her parchments and closed the folder in a gesture of finality.

Everyone quickly rose as Minerva swept to her feet. Voices arose in a number of overlapping murmurs - a combination of "good night's" and "thank-you's," as the tall witch met them with polite smiles and gracious nods. She flicked her wand and the door behind her opened, revealing another large room where a fire was burning in the hearth expectantly.

Hermione immediately glanced to her left to find Master Kallas watching Minerva with an opaque expression. She seemed rather subdued. The light gaze flicked back to her own face and the careful features softened.

Master Kallas lifted a delicate hand and cupped Hermione's cheek gently, her eyes melting into an expression of bemusement and kindness. At once, Hermione wanted nothing more than to return to the comfortable embrace of the Kefalas villa and sink into blissful oblivion.

"Come, darling. It is late," she said softly.

They shrank their folders and carefully tucked them into sapphire folds even as the ambient conversations continued to ebb and flow around them. Like all Order meetings, everyone was reluctant to leave and despite the overwhelming amount of information they had just absorbed, Hermione noted how most faces seemed to be rather energized and excited.

In contrast, Hermione felt thoroughly drained and it was reassuring to follow Master Kallas as she led them around the table and behind Minerva toward the other room where the fire beckoned invitingly.

 _The Floo?_

Master Kallas hated the Network with a passion.

A strange break in the conversations behind them caught her attention and Hermione turned, suddenly realizing that her friends were watching her leave with rather surprised and bereft expressions. Only Ginny seemed upset, while Harry, Neville, and George appeared confused. Ron appeared to be watching her in regret; beneath the rather rakish beard he was sporting, she knew his lips were twisting in a familiar expression. As her gaze slid away, she felt a sharp pang in her chest. _They don't understand... I have a different life now with different rules...  
_

"Do you wish to say goodbye to them?" Master Kallas asked, leaning in subtly and placing her lips close to Hermione's neck. They were almost at the threshold to the doors behind Minerva, who was busy talking to Narcissa Black and Wickleffe Temple.

As her mentor's familiar scent washed over her, Hermione felt a different wave of resolve. _You are Diamantina Kallas' Apprentice, for Merlin's sake!_

Their business was concluded and it was time to leave.

Besides, it was hardly the time to engage in the apologies and conversations that required more time and explanation than she could give.

"No," she found herself replying, turning to face the poised woman who stood beside her, her body and features betraying no trace of the private conversation they were currently having. Master Kallas made it appear effortless.

"I am with you, Master."

The bright gaze flicked up to her again and Master Kallas nodded, turning swiftly to continue their departure into the adjoining room. As she followed, Hermione was pleased to feel a thrum of pleasure through their bond. Her master approved.

Rather than heading for the fireplace as expected, the witch drew them into a darker corner, out of direct sight from the drawing room. She placed her hands around Hermione's waist and drew them together so that they were nearly flush. Hermione found her arms circling the small frame automatically.

Eyes widening, she realized that the witch intended to Apparate them back to Greece. _But that's over three thousand kilometers!_

"Trust me," came the firm response.

Closing her eyes, Hermione leaned into the embrace... inhaling the calming scents of tea tree and eucalyptus even as the witch's dark curls tickled her nose. In a moment they would be home...

She felt her heart settle at the thought.

Had she been paying attention, Hermione would have noticed that the darkened room faded away not with a crack of displaced air, but a burst of bright white smoke.


	30. Chapter 30

_A/N: The night is almost over..._

* * *

"Sturgis… how can I help you?" Minerva asked, attempting to keep her voice free from fatigue. The large blond man had been waiting patiently as she had seen to the last of her guests' departure. Renata, Molly, and Narcissa had required a great amount of reassurance that Diamantina Kallas was a witch to be trusted.

She had been rather surprised by the unusual trio's vehemence in suggesting that her former apprentice would place the Order in a compromising position. Renata and Molly had been predictable. However Narcissa had been unexpected and rather unwilling to reveal her reasoning for holding the witch suspect in front of others. Minerva would have to look into the woman's concerns at a later point.

"Minerva… I apologize for keeping you from your duties."

The tall wizard gave her a rather guilty look which she waved away. A moment later her brow furrowed and suddenly her observation gave way to the realization that the man before was radiating worry and paranoia. Immediately warning bells went off in her mind.

"Let us adjourn to the den," she suggested evenly, waving a hand to dim the lights in the drawing room even as she gestured to the open doors behind them. The tall wizard nodded, quickly sweeping through and moving with purpose over toward two comfortable armchairs near the fire.

Minerva followed carefully, mentally clearing her mind for whatever Sturgis Podmore was about to reveal.

Perching on the opposite chair slowly, she gazed at the man across from her.

"What has happened, Sturgis?" Minerva asked softly even as the wizard ran a heavy hand through his locks.

"Minerva… I…. can't thank you enough for hosting the meeting tonight," Sturgis began, his blue gaze unusually somber. She gave a nod of encouragement as the wizard suddenly sat, elbows falling atop his knees as if he held the weight of the world.

"I've uncovered something at the Ministry," he said slowly. "For the moment no one knows… I've been tailing the lead on my own because I've been afraid of tipping anyone off. But, Minerva… this is _big_."

He looked up at her beseechingly and Minerva gave a small nod of understanding even as her blood ran cold. The man's hands were shaking.

"On Monday night someone dug through hundreds of high-level files regarding details of the Ministry's Economic and Defense outlines. They made unauthorized copies of all of these files. Whoever it was now has details about the country's Floo Network, Ministry-approved outposts, Emergency Anti-Apparition nets, Oblivating procedures, official lockdown procedures… information that easily outlines an official response should there ever be, Merlin forbid, some sort of massive attack or accident, or…. I don't know! " Sturgis explained, his voice tense. Minerva listened, her mind reeling with the implications of such an information leak, watching as the tall wizard ran a hand through his hair.

A moment later he exhaled in a slow hiss and gave her a guilty look.

"Minerva, they also have Ministry records on the Order," he whispered.

"I understand," she said, swiftly inhaling through her nose. _Nothing to be done about that. We all know the risks._ Rather than focus on the heavy blow to their cover, she fixed him with a serious gaze.

"You are _certain_ that no one else knows?" she asked.

Sturgis nodded emphatically.

"Positive. It was pure luck that I stumbled across the evidence. The Ministry had a system in place that makes note of all copies created of official documents. It's written deep into the warding of all official buildings, likely too deep to warrant tampering. Unfortunately, whoever made the copies successfully managed to conceal their identity."

"So you know that the copies were created, but you don't know where they have gone or who made them," Minerva summarized, wanting to ensure she understood. Sturgis nodded. _Damn it all..._

"I've narrowed down my list of suspects to three people, but… they're high up," he said quietly and Minerva's enhanced senses could practically smell the man's fear. That small fact alone was entirely worrying.

Sturgis had served several years in the Auror offices as a skilled fieldworker before transferring over to the Investigative Department as the Deputy Head. It did not bode well that a wizard of his experience and stature had been reduced to such a fearful mess.

"Would you feel comfortable sharing their names? I'm certain that the Order could lend you wands," Minerva said carefully, her eyes narrowed as she tried to ascertain where the wizard was going with his story.

"No… no, I can't yet. I'm _so_ close, Minerva. I just need a bit more evidence and then I'm _sure_ I can pin this. It's too risky. None of the other people at the meeting would have cause to engage with these people without tipping them off… especially now that they have files on all of us."

Sturgis spoke quickly and abruptly rose to pace in front of the fire, his entire body tense.

"Forgive me for being blunt, but then why are you sharing this?" Minerva asked calmly.

The question seemed to startle the wizard and he just looked at her for a long moment before sitting again almost as quickly as he had stood.

"I need you to do me a favor, okay? I don't know when this is all going to go down, but it's going to go down soon and I need some assurances…"

"Sturgis, slow down. _What_ is going to go down? What do you _need?"_ she asked, leaning forward even as she shook her head in confusion.

"I need you to keep Maria safe." Minerva resisted the urge to move back as Sturgis moved to the edge of his chair, stopping just short of grabbing her shoulders as if suddenly realizing who he was speaking with.

"Maria? What? I don't under-"

"Minerva, promise me you'll protect her," he stated, his eyes boring into hers.

"I will do my absolute best, Sturgis," she replied honestly, even as her eyes regarded him coolly. As if the wind had suddenly been taken out of his sails, Sturgis fell back into the armchair, one hand scraping over his face as he gave a mirthless chuckle.

"She's all I've got, Minerva," he said softly, eyes flickering with the flames. In his stillness, Minerva was suddenly able to see the deep lines in his face and the heavy bags beneath his eyes. In the high contrast of the flames, Sturgis looked like a man on the edge. _Merlin, Sturgis… what have you uncovered?_

"I will do my absolute best," Minerva repeated, moving forward to place a hand on his knee. "However, I need you to give me more than that. I cannot protect your wife if I am not appraised of your plans."

He nodded, sitting up slowly, his head hung apologetically. For a moment, Minerva had an odd sense of dejá vú as she recalled those same thick curls hung in shame… many many decades ago in very different circumstances.

However a moment later when crisp blue eyes gazed back into hers, they were the haunted eyes of a man who had seen far too much… and not the penitent gaze of a twelve-year old caught after curfew on the Quidditch Pitch.

"Tomorrow night," he whispered. Though Minerva's mind swam with questions, she attempted to keep her thoughts focused on the task at hand. _Tomorrow._ That didn't leave much room for crafting a safety net.

"What sort of precautions are you taking?" she asked sharply. Sturgis' lips twisted into a grimace and she felt her heart fall.

"Sturgis, no…" Minerva whispered. "You _cannot_ go in without any form of backup. It's too risky."

"Minerva, I assure you. I have one chance at this before too many things unravel. If I wait, these people are going to easily cover their tracks and bury me before anything can get out. Or I'll be Obliviated and of zero use to anyone."

"There are other ways, then," she replied firmly. Sturgis opened his large hands in a wistful gesture.

"At the moment, I disagree. As Deputy, I have a bit of clout that I've already used to set up an informal meeting for tomorrow night. But it's a long shot… if I push too hard, they're going to push back," he replied, shaking his head.

Sighing, Minerva simply gazed at the wizard before her.

"I disagree with your plan of action, Sturgis. At the very least, allow me to trail you in disguise," she said, her brow furrowed in concern. Everything in this arrangement went against her instincts. _This is ludicrous!_

"Do you _really_ think I'm going to let the newly risen Head of the Order of the Phoenix risk her life?" Sturgis asked a bit bemusedly. Minerva felt her lips thin in disapproval even as blue eyes regained a bit of cheer while he chuckled good naturedly.

Silence spread between them even as the wizard's smile dwindled.

"Thank you for listening to me, Minerva. And thank you for agreeing to watch over Maria," Sturgis said softly. Minerva sighed again, feeling a distant ache grow in her chest that had nothing to do with her compromised sternum.

"Whatever you're up to, Sturgis. I hope it's worth it," she replied.

The honest statement hung between them for a moment and then the blond-haired wizard smiled lightly, his clear blue gaze lost to the flames once more.

"Me too."

* * *

"Master?"

"Yes, darling?" Dia replied automatically, blinking slightly as her focus came to rest on the tired face of her apprentice. Hermione was slumped over at the kitchen table, munching a piece of kataifi absently and regarding her with a curious expression.

"Why did you agree to volunteer for the Order?"

Dia paused, unsure of how to answer that question without opening the floodgates to the rest of the discussion that still needed to happen. She waited a moment, absorbing the witch before her - feeling a pang of guilt at the difficult decisions that lay ahead.

 _Now or later, Diamantina… you will still have to have it._

"Let us retire to my chambers," Dia suggested softly. Hermione's eyes widened slightly, but a moment later she nodded and moved to follow.

Her apprentice remained silent as they padded through the quiet halls of the villa, extinguishing candles as they went until they arrived to the french doors of her inner sanctum.

With a sigh, Dia quickly banished all of her robes, igniting the candles and electing to remain in just a thin white slip that betrayed the gentle outlines of her silken undergarments. Ideally, she would have summoned a bathrobe and divested herself of the rest, but… _that would be too much._

Turning, she pulled the pins from her hair, allowing the complicated twist to fall even as she took in the fact that her apprentice had followed suit and was patiently waiting on the sofa, dressed in one thin layer of sleeveless robes, pulling pins from her curls… her small nose wrinkling in displeasure as a few of the curls grew tangled and knotted.

Smiling softly, Dia moved around the coffee table carefully and sat next to her apprentice, brushing her hands away and working at the tangles with a gentle touch.

A long moment passed, neither of them speaking as Dia continued to caress the thick, silky mane with sure fingers. Her apprentice began to relax slightly, leaning back against the sofa in a way that indicated to Dia it was time to resume their discussion.

"Hermione… I know that right now you feel as though you are being made to choose," she began. "You feel you that you are being forced to make a decision whether or not to honor your Mastery studies with me or whether to return home and join the Order in fighting this new threat."

Hermione's eyes grew moist as she turned to look at Dia directly. Deciding that they needed a bit more objectivity, Dia moved back slightly, tucking her legs beneath her and folding her hands lightly across one thigh. Her expression grew pensive.

"Do you remember that when I asked you to move up the submission of your theses, I told you it was vital?"

Hermione nodded in reply before her eyes widened.

Dia waited, feeling the dawning realization spread through their bond like wildfire.

"You knew," Hermione whispered, her caramel eyes widening quickly and then suddenly filling with anger. "You _knew_ that there was more to the ISOS violations than the news outlets let on and that something big was going to come of it, didn't you?"

Dia nodded sadly, watching as the witch struggled with that piece of information.

The curls she had so recently tended were fairly vibrating with displeasure and the witch's tanned face was flushed with simmering anger. A quote came to mind immediately. ' _Pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding_...'

"What did you already know?" The quiet question was laced with accusation and Dia sighed quietly, her fingers running over the thin fabric of her slip absently.

"I will answer your question, Hermione, but first I need to you to listen," she began, looking at Hermione calmly. The witch's lips thinned a bit but she gave an affirmative nod.

"I am used to operating on my own. It has been… a long time since I have need to answer to anyone other than myself, and perhaps my family on occasion. Admittedly, I am unaccustomed to it," she said. "I do not claim this is a good excuse as to why I have concealed information from you, however I have learned through experience, that my intuition is nearly always right… and as such, it is often _safer_ to hold one's tongue until more information presents itself. Perhaps that is a very Slytherin concept to you, but it is a method that is tried and true and has helped me reach the place that I am today."

She paused and resisted the urge to smile at Hermione's stony features. Beneath the angry expression, she knew there was a swirl of understanding.

"Before the meeting, I suspected that the ISOS violations were a diversion, though I did not know what end. While your friends have pinpointed Antonin Dolohov and Minerva has pinpointed Petrus D'Artagnan, I have my own investigation underway that is following another lead in Northern Africa. I also have good reason to suspect that the Head Architect, Theodotus Ambrozaitys was killed for the research he was engaged in prior to his contract with the Sagrada Familia, which may connect to that underlying subplot to access ancient weapons," Dia said carefully.

"But you didn't tell Minerva about any of that!" Hermione said indignantly, brow furrowing again. _Oh, the righteous anger of Gryffindors..._

"Have I sworn my allegiance to the Order yet?" Dia asked sharply.

"No, but-"

"And what has the Order done for me?" Dia asked coolly. Hermione's mouth closed abruptly and something in her expression shifted. There was a hint of guilt. _I see Minerva has told you enough to understand my reticence..._

"It is not that I do not wish to help your friends, Hermione. But unlike you, I do not know those people well. I do not have the same assurances that they will use the information I provide in a manner that I will agree with, and I do not yet know the skills that each of them possess," she explained gently. Shifting her legs to one side, Dia sat forward, resting her elbow against the back of the sofa and propping her head to gaze at Hermione directly.

"At the moment I have you, whom I've sworn to protect to the extent of my abilities and with my life. I have my family to consider, who has surely experienced their share of heartache and suffering. I have my community here in Greece, other friends abroad… you must understand, darling, that there are many parts of my life of which you are not yet aware, that are as meaningful to me as your friends are to you," she said softly, willing the witch to understand things from her perspective.

Hermione bit her lip and Dia could practically see the thoughts whirling through that brilliant mind with lightning fast speed.

"It is not about wanting to withhold information from anyone. It is about sharing the pieces that are important to a given situation and keeping all of my cards in a place where I can see them and maintain a measure of control," Dia said, her eyes narrowing.

"The question you need to ask yourself is if you are willing to continue your studies and honor your agreement to me, _even if_ it may come into direct conflict with the Order's processes. _Or_ if you wish to dissolve our agreement and return to Great Britain to rejoin the Order on open terms. I suppose a third option would be to continue your studies and not rejoin the Order at all."

Dia stated the options carefully, wanting to ensure that her apprentice understood. The witch glared at her.

"How can say that so calmly?" Hermione hissed, her eyes stormy.

The witch sprang to her feet, raking a hand through her hair, the other coming to rest indignantly on one hip. "You _are_ making me choose between here and there, Master! Don't pretend you're not…"

Hermione paced a small circle, her steps quick and agitated. Dia took a deep breath.

"Merlin's saggy ballsack… this is ludicrous! _Of course_ I want to stay and finish my studies… but how can I abandon my friends back home when there's a threat of this magnitude waiting to _get_ all of us!"

Dia held up a hand, seeing that she needed to be more direct.

"Hermione. I am willing to rejoin the Order if that is your wish. We may enter into the agreement together… however you _must_ understand that _there will be times_ in which I may order you to hold your tongue for the sake of our own contract if I feel our interests are best served by actions alternative to the Order's desires," Dia stated clearly in a voice that brokered no argument.

She crossed her legs and waited.

In the middle of the room, Hermione had stopped - her face clouding and turning thunderous for a moment and Dia was certain that the witch's emotions were building toward a shouting match… but then a moment later, a different realization passed over the beautiful features and Hermione abruptly deflated.

"How you can you even _ask_ that of me?"

Dia felt her heart go out to her apprentice at hearing the anguished tone.

"I can ask it of you, Hermione… because at the end of the day, I am confident that despite the many potential pathways that one can take to arrive to a destination… both the Order and I are on the same path toward Light. I will _never_ deviate from that. However I have tasted enough Darkness to know that I intend to proceed in a different manner… and that sometimes it is necessary to pass through shadows before arriving to one's final destination," she replied softly.

Despite her low tone, her voice was firm and Dia willed her apprentice to understand. _I will not be bound to someone else's agenda._

Large caramel eyes looked over her, swimming with unasked questions and a mask of doubt.

"I don't know if I can do that," Hermione said honestly, her voice brittle.

Despite the professed insecurity, the witch slowly walked back to the sofa and sat next to Dia, her hands falling limp into her lap as she stared toward the candles on the coffee table unseeingly.

Dia took a deep breath, reaching forward to trail a light hand down her apprentice's arm… smiling as the smooth skin responded by pebbling lightly.

"I believe you can, Hermione… because unlike others in the Order, you are quickly learning that not everyone walks through the world in the same manner. The majority of the people in that room tonight have learned to fight fire _with_ fire. This is all well and good. However, I hope you can see… that our intelligence tonight has revealed several key aspects about this new threat upon the horizon."

Dia paused, mind quickly organizing her thoughts even as her hand continued to caress her apprentice's arm lightly. Hermione was watching her hand with a frown and her emotions were roiling too quickly for Dia to unravel.

 _Be careful, Diamantina… if you push too far, you will lose her._

"What element do you believe Voldemort used to wage his wars?" Dia asked softly. _Perhaps we can make this a lesson, not a lecture._

Dark sweeping brows drew together as Hermione thought, quickly picking up on the metaphors she knew that Yiayia had been using. Dia continued to trace random patterns on the witch's arm, tentatively hopeful that her apprentice was willing to follow her for just a bit longer.

"Fire… maybe air," Hermione eventually replied, looking to Dia for confirmation. She gave a nod.

"Indeed. Voldemort, like many people who seek power, was largely goal-oriented. He built his power by dominating others… responding to challenges in fiery ways that won his followers through shows of brute force. However, like all grand takeovers, there was a measure of subtle inspiration to his work - air fuels fire, and in that manner, he infused key imagery into his armies - encouraging them to revel in their own imagined prowess, superiority, and cunning intelligence to maintain their devotion."

Hermione shivered and Dia flattened her hand slightly, rubbing the witch's arm with more sure, reassuring strokes. A moment later she continued.

"Now, how would you characterize the actions and theoretical plans of this new threat?"

"Well, the attacks themselves were pure fire. Brash, obvious displays of strength," Hermione responded immediately. She sniffed lightly and turned her head toward Dia, a measure of understanding spreading across her features.

"But from the rest of our discussion, I would say that their ultimate plans seem much more… vague. I don't know how I could choose an element. Their plans make it seem like they're operating in the gray spaces in between," she breathed, leaning into Dia's touch. Dia paused her movement, instead patting the witch's arm gently.

"Indeed," she replied softly.

They fell into silence, each one musing over her own thoughts while the candles flickered around them.

Hermione's emotions were a maelstrom too complicated for Dia to unravel and so she did not try, instead choosing to focus her attention inward... waiting as the young witch next to her grappled with the many potential outcomes of choices she had yet to make.

"Dia?" The surprising use of her nickname made her turn. Hermione was staring at her with a slight crease of worry between her brows.

"I _do_ trust you, you know."

Dia's heart melted at the thin voice and childlike statement and unbidden, she felt her lips curl into a smile. Their bond pulsed lightly.

"Thank you, darling," she replied honestly, allowing herself to stare into bright caramel eyes. They watched each other openly for a long moment before Dia sighed softly, disconnecting herself and moving back. She lifted the thin fabric of her slip with a delicate hand as she rose to standing.

"The hour grows late, Hermione. I do not need an answer from you tonight… though I hope by the end of this weekend we can discuss your plans," she said, waiting for the witch to look up at her.

A moment later, luminous eyes rose slowly… and without their bond Dia would have been hard-pressed to discern the soft spiral of sadness and insecurity behind calm features. _She **is** learning from you, Diamantina… for better or worse._

"Whatever your choice, darling… please know that I will understand. And I will not think more or less of you for anything you decide," Dia said, her lips curling into an honest smile. She sent a wave of reassurance through their bond, briefly filtering away her own sense of wistfulness at realizing this could very well be one of the last times her apprentice sat in her in such a manner.

"I understand," Hermione replied seriously. Unsure of what to make of the witch's stoic expression, Dia simply chose to nod and move away. _That was certainly enough for once evening… let her go in peace…_

A moment later she felt a sharp spiral of panic, but before she could turn back and question, Hermione's voice called out again.

"Master Kallas?" The voice was almost fearful.

Dia turned, at once concerned to see the witch standing by the sofa… her face suddenly flushed and eyes wary. Hermione visibly shivered, crossing her arms over herself for a moment before something crossed her features… _is that embarrassment?_

"I… um… I… D'you think, that maybe… I could sleep here tonight?" Hermione gestured at the sofa behind her, somehow unable to meet her gaze.

Instantly, the complex web of emotions made sense. It had been a disturbing evening on more than one level, that much was certain. Even Dia felt her own thoughts weigh heavy.

"Come here, darling," she found herself saying.

Hermione moved closer, clearly expecting a hug even as Dia opened an arm to embrace her.

Rather than pull their bodies together, she began leading Hermione toward the adobe steps and curtain that concealed the path toward her private chambers. _What are you **doing** , Diamantina?!_

Dia felt the witch tense as the realization flooded through her about just where they were headed, but she rubbed the young woman's arm reassuringly.

"Don't worry, darling. We both deserve a good night's sleep," she husked softly, pressing aside the gauzy white curtain and leading her apprentice up the short flight of stairs toward her private sanctuary.

A moment later they emerged and Dia waved a hand to light the candles. Unlike her living space and personal study, she preferred less light in the bedroom. The soft amber glow was at once more peaceful.

"This is… _amazing_ ," Hermione breathed looking around in awe as her big eyes took in the dark wood floor, the exposed beams of the vaulted ceiling and Dia's favorite feature - the large king-sized bed hanging suspended from it.

Dia had always loved her bed and the heavy ropes that held it aloft - a few feet from the floor - the perfect height for falling into quickly and rising with the sun. Hermione padded closer, reaching out to touch the gauzy fabric that spilled over the ropes and draped around the bed, giving it an opulence that she had always found both airy and elegant.

"I do enjoy it," she found herself replying rather formally, flushing as Hermione sat on one corner of the sumptuous white sheets and comforter with an awestruck smile. The bed drifted gently in response. There was something intensely _intimate_ about the image and Dia turned, suddenly unable to look at her apprentice's intensely beautiful and innocent features. Flicking a hand to her right, Dia wordlessly ignited the candles in the master bath.

"If you would give me a moment, please make yourself comfortable," she said quickly before making her escape.

 _Sweet Circe._

Rationally, she knew she was overacting. They were both exhausted, overwhelmed, and in need of simple companionship. Yes, she was breaking all of her rules. _Swiftly_ , in fact, however her intuition suggested that while most unusual, it was the right course of action.

Her Apprentice needed her, and that was cause enough.

Looking in the mirror Dia quickly sighed and began her evening ablutions with rapid efficiency.

 _Best laid plans and all that…_ she thought with a smile.

Hermione seemed to step around them with alarming regularity.

* * *

 _A/N: The quote that Dia recalls while Hermione is struggling to understand that she's been withholding information is from 'The Prophet' by Kahlil Gibran. Lovely prose... check it out if you've never heard of it._


	31. Chapter 31

_A/N: Sorry for the break in posts! Needed some time to regroup and sort through new ideas... I promise the coming chapters will review a lot of the structural plot points that came before._

 _This one's a bit short, but enjoy! More to come soon!  
_

* * *

Harry arrived in the kitchen to find George and Percy sitting at the table wearing matching bleary-eyed expressions.

After the Order meeting, he, Ron, and Ginny had elected to return to The Burrow where everyone had argued late into the night - rehashing points from the meeting and discussing additional reconnaissance options that could be effected in the coming weeks. Gawain and Wickleffe had stopped by for a while, providing a good number of ideas and helping to make a large dent in several cases of butterbeer before departing together just after midnight.

It seemed that everyone had been in agreement that the hazy and seemingly incongruous world events that Headmistress McGonagall had elucidated were puzzling, yes… but frustrating in a terrifying way that left Harry with a strange sense of dejá vú. It was almost the same feeling he had experienced nearly two years previous - tasked by Dumbledore to find the Horcruxes and destroy Voldemort - only this time, it felt like they had even less of a final picture to work toward.

"'Morning dear. Grab a plate… 'xpect Ginny will be down shortly."

Molly Weasley appeared off his elbow to press a warm kiss against his cheek and Harry flushed lightly, murmuring a greeting as he scrubbed a hand through his hair and slid in across from George.

"Sleep well, Harry?" Arthur Weasley strode through the door and pressed a kiss to his wife's head before sitting down at his customary spot at the head of the table and filching a plate from the pile.

"Actually yeah," he replied with a little bit of surprise. Despite the heavy conversation he and Ron had whispered into the darkness before falling asleep, Harry was surprised at how good he felt.

"Good, because we need to talk."

Harry froze, suddenly completely awake and acutely aware of both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's presence in the kitchen.

 _Oh Merlin... Please let this not be about me and Ginny..._

"I was impressed by your offer to reinstate Grimmauld Place as an Order safehouse," Arthur began, piling his plate high with sausage and eggs. Harry felt an instant wave of relief pass through him even as the older wizard sent him a knowing look of amusement. He fought not to blush.

Fortunately, Arthur pressed on.

"I knew that you guys have been working diligently on the renovations, but d'you really think it'll be complete by the first of the year?"

Harry blinked.

"Uh… yeah, I do. Kreacher's been loads of help of course, but honestly I think we've managed all of the structural overhauls by this point. Ginny wants to repaint the upstairs bedrooms next week and Gawain says he has a friend who might be able to work some Architectural enchantments into the works to add another level of rooms, but basically everything is coming together really well," Harry replied easily, helping himself to a generous portion of eggs and toast.

"Good, because I was thinking that it would be helpful to have a neutral location on hand for the Order to use in the coming weeks and months. I have a feeling we're going to need it," Arthur said even as Percy nodded grimly and Molly sighed.

"D'you need any extra hands?"

George was peering at him curiously and something in the expression told Harry not to refuse. Briefly he wondered if his friend was simply searching for something else to distract himself.

"Sure, anytime. I've been spending my Monday and Thursday mornings there before classes and we've been going there on the weekends too, though you're welcome at any time. I'll tell Kreacher to look out for you - he can explain more about the different projects if you happen to go when we're not there."

"'e's been a right help, that one," a sleepy voice yawned. Harry turned and saw Ron entering the kitchen, his hair sticking out in all directions.

"Kreacher's completely chuffed with all the work we've given 'im. Reckon he hasn't felt this useful in decades."

"Anyway, Harry - you need any help, don't hesitate to ask," Arthur said, giving him a smile. "I can imagine Minerva would also grateful if we could reinstate Grimmauld Place sooner rather than later."

"If there's anything _any_ of us can do for that witch don't hesitate to mention it, for that matter," Molly piped in, shaking her head slightly. She puttered around near the prep table with assorted vegetables that Harry assumed would make a later appearance at either lunch or dinner.

"Merlin knows that the woman will run herself into the ground before letting another War slip into her backyard."

The quiet mutter was nearly lost in the abundance of kitchen sounds, though Harry was surprised by the note of pity he heard in the witch's voice.

"Sorry, but what d'you mean by that?" Harry asked curiously, feeling like there was more to the comment that he needed to hear. He was still getting used to the idea of Minerva McGonagall leading the Order at all.

Molly turned in surprise, expression immediately falling slightly and she shook her head again.

"Minerva will never forgive herself for having let Hogwarts serve as the site of the Final Battle. And while she's never said as much aloud, I'm sure she still feels a measure of guilt for not having done more to thwart Voldemort's plans during the final year of the War," Molly replied, her green eyes rather sad.

"But that's ridiculous… we won! Hogwarts was rebuilt! And even though Severus was there as Headmaster for the final year of the war, Neville said that Professor McGonagall went out of her way to keep students safe. I expect Dumbledore wanted her in place because he knew what would happen if there was no one there to help keep up morale," Harry said, quickly growing irate. _Why should she feel guilty?_

"True… but I think there was also a larger part of Minerva that felt she should have inherently _known_ Dumbledore's plan even if he didn't spell it out for her. And undoubtedly she was hurt by his perceived lack of trust in her abilities… I think she took it rather personally that she had to find out the entire story of you and Severus and the final plans after the fact alongside everyone else," Molly said, her lips twisting into a sad smile.

"But he never set out to deceive her purposefully! He just knew that we were the ones to finish the job!" Harry retorted, pushing his plate away.

"I know, Harry. But think about it from her perspective… she was Albus' Deputy for nearly four decades. They were obviously quite close for a number of years during her apprenticeship and practically attached at the hip afterward - even when Diamantina was there from what I hear," Arthur paused to sip his coffee, his expression pensive.

"And not to detract from the significance of Albus' trust in you, but I imagine it came as a shock to her when the three of you left Hogwarts to complete a secret mission to destroy Voldemort without her knowledge. Three teenagers going against one of the most powerful villains in our history and the woman heralded as 'The Most Powerful Witch of our Age' was left on the sidelines? A bit preposterous, if you ask me. Minerva has taken on some of the most powerful Dark witches and wizards in the country and survived to tell the tale. She's a three time war veteran and yet Dumbledore kept his plans secret from everyone except you and Severus. That had to hurt."

Harry mulled over that for a moment - at once indignant to think that the Headmistress could have taken Dumbledore's plans so personally, but then… _how could she not?_ Though his ego had folded slightly at the mention of the Headmistress' prowess in comparison to theirs, rationally, Harry knew that the Weasley's were right.

Still, it didn't help when Ron chipped in.

"Yeah, mate. Hermione even said that she had Dumbledore's portrait banished from the Head's office for most of the reconstruction," Ron mumbled into his coffee, giving Harry a sad look. "I reckon she probably felt betrayed."

"I… guess I never thought about her role in things," Harry said softly, at once feeling wave of guilt. Ron clapped him on the back, already seeing through to his wave of irrational emotion. _Not everything is your responsibility..._

"Well it's certainly not your fault, Harry," Molly said kindly, giving voice to the inner mantra that Harry had been trying to pound into his head at the Academy. She dumped a few more fresh sausages onto a plate in the middle of the table. "Dumbledore burnt a lot of bridges with his scheming."

"Minerva was never one to let bad blood spoil her sense of integrity. I don't doubt that it must've taken awhile for her Scottish temper to die down but I hardly imagine she would be calling the Order together without having engaged in some discussion with Dumbledore's portrait. They were best friends… you don't just give that up," Arthur said kindly, reaching out to clap Harry's forearm.

There was a moment of quiet silence as he mulled over those words… still smarting at how obvious it was that Minerva McGonagall had been slighted by the one wizard that Harry still held in the highest esteem. But still... could Harry ever imagine keeping a secret of such magnitude from Ron or Hermione? And if he did, would they ever forgive him?

It hurt to think that Dumbledore could have been so cruel to the Headmistress… though privately Harry still had difficulty imagining the elegant witch as being all that Mr. Weasley said she was. He had seen snatches of her dueling during the Final Battle and it was clear that the woman was an experienced dueler, but somehow Harry still didn't understand why everyone kept heralding her as the "Most Powerful Witch of Her Age."

She was just Professor McGonagall…

Scary as hell? Yes.

Intimidating? Yes.

But truly powerful?

"Speaking of friends, what'd you guys think about seeing Hermione last night?" Arthur asked, interrupting his thoughts and brightening even as Harry and Ron looked up.

"Merlin, had I known she would grow into such a gorgeous witch, I woulda been on- oww! Shite! Ron!"

George's statement was cut short by a flying piece of toast, lobbed by Ron whose expression was looking rather dark. Molly Weasley quickly snapped admonishments toward the both of them.

"Don't speak about her like that! Have you no class!?" Ron roared, leaping to his feet. Both Arthur and Percy wore matching expressions of surprise even as Harry simply sighed and tugged his friend back into his seat.

Sometimes Ron was still so predictable.

George grumbled but simply plunked his elbows down on the table.

"She looked great, that's for sure," Harry said firmly, barring any further argument. "I was hoping we would get a chance to speak with her longer but she and her master left in a hurry."

"Well that was always Diamantina," Molly sniffed derisively. "Forever obeying her own agenda."

"Did you know her during the first Order?" Harry asked curiously even as Arthur sent him a small gesture that indicated not to ask any more questions. He immediately sank back as Molly's dishtowel whipped out of nowhere, her robes nearly snapping Harry in the face as she reached over the table to grab an empty plate.

"Yes," Molly snapped, turning on heel and marching to the sink. Harry and Ron exchanged matching bewildered looks. Arthur sighed, giving in to the expressions of curiosity surrounding him.

"Diamantina was always an enigmatic woman, though even as Minerva's apprentice she was remarkably outspoken and quick-witted," he explained, one hand absently smearing jam on his toast. "Used to drive Minerva crazy during meetings… I swear, nearly every session would conclude with them in the hallway with Diamantina receiving a harsh dressing down for her cheek. It's almost funny that she would be so demanding of Hermione to uphold the old Mastery traditions as it appears."

Arthur chuckled and took a bite, waving his toast as he gave the table a meaningful look.

"At the same time she was sharp. And I _mean_ sharp. Brilliant strategist - she and Dumbledore could riff off each other for hours - expounding on different possibilities and angles with which to view a certain plan or mission. But no matter the play, Minerva was always there to cut to the heart of things and set them straight. They made a good team, they did. Almost like the two of you and Hermione," Arthur said, lifting his chin to look at Harry and Ron who were listening with interest.

"Yes, a brilliant strategist. So far-sighted in her goals that she never minded the occasional loss of life!" Molly interjected, spinning at the sink to nearly spit the words out. Harry's eyes widened, surprised to hear such venom in the woman's voice as she glared at her husband. Even George and Percy seemed surprised.

"Molly," Arthur chided loudly, turning to fix his wife with a look. The table was silent as the pair seemed to hold a short conversation in meaningful looks before Molly deflated somewhat and turned back to the sink, though she seemed to be wielding her _Scourgify_ with an extra amount of vehemence.

Arthur sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair to wipe his mouth with a napkin even as he stared toward his plate unseeingly.

"Was I the only one who imagined it when it sounded as though the Headmistress had invited Hermione and her master to listen only?" Harry asked, voicing the question that had been burning since the night before.

He felt Ron shift next to him slightly.

Hermione had been one of the few subjects they avoided talking about the night before.

"Well, I know that Diamantina resides in Greece… that's not exactly our neighbor here, though I'm sure it wouldn't be much of a stretch for either her or Minerva to coordinate between countries. At the moment, I imagine she only attended for Hermione's benefit and that Minerva was leaving the open statement as a courtesy to Diamantina and Hermione's contract," Arthur replied quietly, giving Harry and Ron a searching look.

"Whud'you think?" Ron asked, folding his elbows on the table and nudging him slightly. Harry was both surprised and unsurprised to see that his friend's plate was already clean.

"I dunno. It's Hermione. On one hand I can totally see her dropping everything to come back. On the other…" Harry trailed off and shrugged.

"She might want to finish her apprenticeship," Ron finished, grimacing slightly at the thought of their friend remaining wherever it was that she was studying. _Somewhere in Greece… never would figured her to end up there._

"Rationally, it would make the most sense for her to finish her studies," Percy said, sitting forward slightly and earning a glare from Ron. He opened his hands beseechingly.

"Hear me out. At the moment we have little information about the big picture… it could be weeks before anything comes of our intelligence. Or it could be months. While you both are able to chip in elsewhere due to your involvement with Gawain and Wickleffe, if Hermione were to return to now, what would she do? Take a low-end job at the Ministry? Freelance?" Percy paused and shrugged lightly even as Harry fought not to acknowledge how much the wizard's words made sense.

"It would be better for her to stay and finish through at least her second classifications before returning. At least then she would have a better shot for jobs that could actually advance her career. And from what else I've heard, it sounds like her master is pretty well-known for her dueling abilities. I can't imagine she would leave Hermione unprepared in the meantime," Percy said, folding inward slightly as he turned back to his plate.

Harry briefly felt a flash of guilt at recognizing how subdued Percy had become after the War. _I need to work on growing past my first impressions..._

"Y'know, I hate to admit it but Perce is right," George said, leaning forward. "Hermione would hate to be here and be unable to pitch in to the fullest extent of her abilities because of red tape or some other kind of bull. And if she were to interrupt her training now, it would be pretty hard for her to restart her apprenticeship later."

Ron sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair again, sending more tufts straight up even as Arthur gave his son a sympathetic look. Harry's lips twisted as he had to acknowledge everyone's logic.

"I have no doubt that Hermione will pitch in as she can," Arthur said quietly. "And Diamantina is an honorable woman for all her controversy. If Hermione wants to help, I have no doubt that she will restructure everything to make it possible."

Molly sniffed loudly from the sink but Arthur ignored her. _I wonder what happened to make Mrs. Weasley so biased…_

"Well it's already promising that the witch volunteered for the reconnaissance mission in Guatemala," George put in, giving Ron and Harry a half smile. "Can't imagine that they haven't talked about the possibility if Hermione's master was so quick to jump forward on the Order's behalf."

Harry nodded at that, feeling marginally better at the thought. _At least her master seemed to be putting forth an effort..._

"Yeah… just wish we'd gotten a chance to talk to 'Mione alone," Ron replied glumly.

For a moment the conversation lulled and the ambient sound was ruled by knives clanking and the quiet running of water in the kitchen sink.

"I think I'm gonna to write Hermione a letter after breakfast if you wanna put something in," Harry said eventually even as Ron shrugged absently. "I at least want to let her know that I support whatever she decides."

That made his friend sniff, and a moment later Ron's focus slid off somewhere to the left, his features betraying a mood somewhere between regretful and nostalgic.

"Yeah… guess you're right."

* * *

Hermione had awoken early, though judging from the temperature of the space next to her, it was clear that Master Kallas had risen long before the sun.

Following her brief flash of disorientation upon waking up in the witch's bed, she had been flooded with memories of the night before - the dire predictions from the Order meeting, the confusion and guilt upon seeing her friends and community back in Great Britain, and the unnerving discussion with Master Kallas at the end of the night that had left her feeling overwhelmed and undeniably panicked at the thought of the upcoming weeks and months.

Somehow the juxtaposition of all of those thoughts had been too much against the unfamiliar and undeniably beautiful surroundings of her master's bedroom, and Hermione had quickly risen… padding quietly back to her own rooms and attempting to keep her thoughts at bay.

Now, standing next to gauzy curtains and gazing out toward the brisk autumn day, Hermione allowed herself to feel lost.

A trickle of birdsong floated in from the open window along with the fresh scents of pine and sea salt… the light breeze wound its way through her curls, seeming to beckon her to its call...

A moment later, Hermione bit her lip and summoned a bag.

Quickly stuffing in a few books, parchments, and some writing utensils, she grabbed a swimsuit and towel and quickly came to a decision.

Training had seemed too arduous a task and she knew that she was still too unfocused to begin her Mastery revisions. She needed to get off the island or at least away from the villa for a bit, even as a pang of guilt suddenly twisted through her chest. Deftly pulling her needed materials together, Hermione cast one last glance around her room for good measure.

 _I just need to step away for a little bit… Master Kallas will understand._

Her feet carried her through the quiet halls of the villa until she arrived to the kitchen where an immaculate figure in a simple layer of ivory robes sat at the table, the slip of silk revealing the smooth expanse of a dark shoulder and glimpse of shaded collarbone.

"I'm going to go out for awhile, Master," Hermione announced quietly, somehow afraid to meet the witch's gaze. She waited nervously as a delicate hand paused in its correspondence.

"I'm going to attend to my revisions on Kato Koufonisi."

A moment later, the dark curls lifted and she was surprised to see Master Kallas' beautiful features arranged into an expression of indifference.

"Very well," came the soft reply. There was a long pause and Hermione wasn't sure if she imagined a flash of concern before the witch turned back to her parchment.

A moment later the quill continued scratching.

"We are on our own for dinner tonight. I will prepare a few things around seven."

The quill paused for a split second.

"You do not have to feel obligated to join me."

Inwardly, Hermione felt her heart seize slightly as her anxiety melded with relief and guilt at the quiet words.

"All right," she replied softly, trying not to sound too reassured by the offer.

She turned toward the kitchen counter and quickly slipped a banana and apple into her bag before peeking into the pantry and magicking together a few extra snacks that would see her through the morning. If she needed she could always stop into one of the local towns for lunch.

"Have a good day, Master," Hermione offered gently, already halfway toward the hall.

In the split second before she passed the threshold, Master Kallas looked up.

Hermione put one foot in front of the other diligently as she quickly made her way outside and down toward the beach below… desperately trying to ignore the way her chest had caught at seeing the witch's sad smile.


	32. Chapter 32

_A/N: More information this way comes... thanks for reading!  
_

* * *

Minerva stirred her tea absently, one ear listening to Maria Podmore regale her with stories of her brother and his children from her recent vacation, the other distantly absorbing the ambient sounds of Muggle London.

She had always appreciated the Podmore's for wanting to indulge her Muggle half. Unlike Arthur Weasley whose peculiar fascination with all-things-Muggle felt naïve and rather trite at times, Sturgis was well versed in Muggle culture on account of his earlier days in the Auror offices.

In the past several years, Minerva had been pleased to discover that the wizard was a rather proficient cook and was always interested in sharing his culinary finds in the Muggle world with others. Their infrequent meetings on Order business had always been scheduled in the thick of Muggle cities and towns and Sturgis had a remarkable knack for choosing out-of-the-way places that Minerva would quickly come to love.

Minerva had met Maria outside a lovely Thai restaurant in Kensington and they had worked their way through a number of appetizers and smaller side dishes while chatting over a number of innocuous topics - the younger woman daringly adding hot chili paste to almost everything. There was an ease that Minerva felt with the Podmore's - Maria had attended Beauxbatons and while Sturgis had once been her student, he had never lauded her with unnecessary deference nor shied away from her formidable public persona. He was professional but also kind, which had been part of the reason she had so readily acquiesced to his cryptic demands the night previous.

It would have been a wonderful luncheon… had the true reason for their meeting not been swirling through the back of her mind like an ominous Grim. Intuitively, Minerva knew that Maria was more than smart enough to put two and two together - a spontaneous invitation to lunch with the current Headmistress of Hogwarts was no small matter, though she had been impressed when the witch had taken it in stride and made no indication that she was prepared to ask after either her or Sturgis' reasoning.

A glance at the time indicated the hour was drawing close to two and Minerva felt a small flutter in her stomach as the time slowly slid away… she needed to solidify her plan… and _soon._

Fortunately, Maria seemed to be more than ready to provide her with the opening she needed. The witch subtly turned the conversation to the coming weeks and mentioned offhandedly how lonely it could be now that Sturgis was forced to take longer shifts into the midnight hours as the Ministry worked its way toward the end of their fiscal year. It seemed all of the departments were on edge to complete budgetary requirements on time (Minerva was forced to swallow a wry smile - now _that_ she could relate with).

Minerva promptly insisted that Maria come over for a late dinner at the Manse - waving away the woman's concerns about imposing upon her time. They chatted amicably for a few more minutes before Minerva easily picked up the check, handling the Muggle money with familiarity that floated back from childhood.

It was then that Maria folded her hands across the table and pinned her with a steely gaze.

"Thank you, Minerva," the witch said seriously, and instantly Minerva knew that the younger woman was not speaking of her footing the bill. Her heart twisted for the necessary deception and the witch's clear ease in going along with it. _I see you are no stranger to secrecy, Maria..._

"You are most welcome, Maria," Minerva replied quietly, infusing her words with a reassuring smile. Dark brown eyes met hers sadly and they both fell silent, allowing the unspoken understanding to float across the table and tinge the air with its melancholy presence.

 _I hope there shall come a day when we will all be free from these deceptions._

"I look forward to seeing you later this evening," she said eventually, moving to rise even as Maria's eyes glittered in a bright way that Minerva fought to ignore.

"As do I," Maria replied, her voice surprisingly steady. "You are a good friend, Minerva."

Even as they departed, Minerva couldn't help but think that _true_ friends would never have allowed such a deception to occur in the first place.

 _I hope you know what you're doing, Sturgis._

* * *

The sun was bright upon the white sand beach and despite the chillier breeze rolling in from the channel between Kato Koufonisi and the next island of Keros, Hermione had holed up beneath a makeshift lean-to… tucked beneath the shade of gold rocks as painfully blue waters lapped at the small cove in a quiet rhythm.

She had started on the other side of the island facing north toward Naxos, but the familiar outline of her home had felt like a weight. Eventually Hermione had Apparated to the south side, a short distance away from a small local town that she could walk to later if she was hungry.

Keros loomed across a small straight, dotted with scrub trees and heather in a desolate, uninhabited way that was much like Koufonisi itself. Hermione had always liked the island for its solitude. During the summer months it had been a more popular vacationing spot, but now that the weather was turning, the island was populated by only a scattering of people - the majority of whom were hippies and easy-going locals that never seemed to question Hermione's inexplicable appearances given that there were only two ferries arriving to the port on any given day.

Even though she didn't expect to be interrupted, Hermione had cast a Disillusionment Charm over her small hideaway… feeling more at peace with her thoughts and more able to focus on the tasks that still lay before her.

She had begun the morning with a swim… slightly more cautious in her workout as she didn't know the waters quite as well. Afterward she had roamed aimlessly along the center of the island, traveling south a bit… trimming a few fragrant clusters of heather to give to Master Kallas later, and kicking around the pebbly dirt as her mind worked to unravel all of her unmade choices.

With a sigh, Hermione sat up - swinging lightly in her transfigured hammock as she placed a book on _Interactive Probiotics_ on the stack near her satchel. Stifling a groan she scrubbed her hands over her face, noting the salty residue from the sea and a bit of discomfort across her cheeks which likely indicated she had gotten a small sunburn on account of the bright day.

 _Salazar's Snake… you forgot the UV charm again._

Grumbling to herself slightly, Hermione started digging in her satchel for a gentle version of burn paste before her ears picked up the distant sound of someone whistling.

Wand immediately in hand, she stood, stepping out from beneath the shady roof of her little tent, eyes scanning the cove suspiciously.

Her heartbeat quickened when she saw the glimpse of a dark figure descending the steep pathway from between craggy rocks that lead from higher ground. Hermione tightened her hand on her wand, already a breath away from packing up her things and departing. _You're still Disillusioned… at least there's that._

Eyes wide, she nearly rolled them a second later… a smile already gracing her lips as she bounded beyond the boundaries of her charm.

"Yiayia! What are you doing here?"

The dark head looked up and Yiayia shaded her eyes for a moment before flinching theatrically, one hand flying to her chest.

"Goodness! _There_ you are, my lovely! Dia told me I might find you here," Yiayia called cheerfully, as if walking along a beach in formal robes was a daily occurrence for her. _Which, knowing Yiayia, maybe it is…_

Hermione hurried over, at once slightly embarrassed to be in a simple black bikini against Yiayia's high-necked sapphire robes. She waved her wand absently to cancel the Disillusionment behind her.

"Forgive my outfit, darling. I just came from a meeting at the Hellenic Council… _dreadfully_ boring, if I do say… I confess that I used the both of you as an excuse to leave early. Hippolyta knows that I've sat through my fair share of idiotic discussions," Yiayia said, drawing up short and sighing.

"Can I… er… get you anything?" Hermione asked, not quite sure what to do with herself in the presence of the elegant woman. Her eyes took in the witch's bare feet and the way her robes were charmed to repel the sand as she began marching toward the shady area where Hermione had been studying. Yiayia simply ignored her question.

"What a lovely spot you've found!" Yiayia remarked, smiling broadly as she clucked over Hermione's small camp with delight. The witch quickly waved a hand and organized a second hammock, the ivory macrame swinging in the breeze as they strode over.

Hermione fought not to blush, realizing her arrangement was likely quite quaint in the other witch's eyes. After her ventures with the boys, she still gave little thought to physical comfort when left to her own devices.

"Be a dear and help me with these robes?" Yiayia asked in a suffering voice, already unbuttoning the high collar with a grimace. Unsure of how to help without invading the woman's space, Hermione conjured a small coat stand to place at the end of the second hammock, jumping slightly when the heavy robes were quickly banished to hang in a colorful bundle.

"Ahhh… that's better," Yiayia sighed, falling into the hammock rather indelicately.

Hermione tried not to stare.

It was… strange. Rationally she knew that Yiayia had to have been several decades older than Master Kallas at the very least. The smaller tells were there. Chin-length black curls boasted one shock of bright silver along the right temple and the clear eyes were framed by a smattering of laugh lines and other wrinkles...

But gazing at the woman in front of her, it was as though Hermione couldn't quite _see_ Yiayia's age. The woman wore a short sleeveless dress - ivory edged in ornate sapphire flowers… and her skin and body seemed remarkably untouched. She could have been staring at Minerva's body… or Master Kallas'… or her own for that matter… except for the lighter olive complexion and more curvaceous figure. _She **is** a witch, I guess._

"Admiring my beauty?"

Yiayia was giving her a coy look, Hermione jumped, quickly moving over to her own hammock and settling quickly, placing her hands on her knees.

"I… uh… no, ma'am… I mean - yes! No!"

"Calm down, child. I'll explain in a moment," Yiayia chuckled, moving slightly to cross her legs and gaze at Hermione seriously. She fought not to blush, mentally kicking herself for the stuttering start to their conversation.

"How are you?"

The simple question seemed infused with far too many interpretations.

"Confused," Hermione answered honestly, after a moment. She decided to focus on the woman's face which was less disconcerting than her youthful body. Yiayia smiled slightly, tilting her head back to rest in the hammock as she regarded Hermione with lidded eyes.

"Do you know what I am, my dear?"

"... a witch?" Hermione answered slowly, not entirely sure what she was being asked of her. _Is this a trick question on her appearance?_

Yiayia chuckled and shook her head.

"No, no… have you discerned yet what it is that I _do?_ Or, rather… did? I suppose I do consider myself retired," Yiayia said, waving a hand slightly as her nose wrinkled. Hermione frowned, realizing that she hadn't the slightest clue.

"Master Kallas has never indicated your profession," she replied quietly, wondering where the witch was going with their conversation. She wondered if it was a piece of information she should have divined already, but realized she was too tired to care. _Merlin, I've had just about enough of these clandestine conversations._

"Take a guess," Yiayia said, extending a long arm and pushing off the rocky outcropping to swing the hammock slightly. Although everything in the casual countenance suggested the elder witch was settling in to relax, something in the set of her lips seemed to indicate that she was presenting Hermione with a challenge. _Another lesson…_

Suddenly feeling slightly obstinate, Hermione sighed heavily, trying to ignore the small voice in the back of her mind that suggested she was being petulant.

"Well… you seem to know quite a bit about everything," Hermione replied honestly after a moment, willing herself to focus on the question.

"Though I would guess that maybe you have a Mastery in Transfiguration from witnessing how you conjure things so easily. And from your continued involvement in the Hellenic Council, I would also guess that you've either served upon it some sort of official capacity, or you're some sort of independent contractor with a specific skill-set that continues to be of use to them."

Yiayia nodded easily, letting her focus drift over toward the pile of books beneath Hermione's hammock.

"Dia tells me that you were surprised to learn of Atlantis."

It wasn't quite a question. Hermione blinked, unsure of what to make of the non sequitur.

"Yes… I mean, of course I had heard legends of it as a child… but it was not taught in the standard curriculum at Hogwarts," she answered.

"Pity," Yiayia replied seriously, her brow furrowing. With a sigh she twisted her lips slightly. "Do you know what Atlantis is known for?"

Hermione shrugged, feeling remarkably uninterested about the island that had so recently captured her attentions. _Your emotions are all over the map… Yiayia's going to see through you, you know._

"From what little I've been able to read, I know that it's now the seat of the ICW's headquarters and the organizations numerous offices and offshoots. The capitol Aetherion seems to be one of the grandest testaments to Wizarding Architecture which was half the reason the island was hidden…"

Hermione trailed off, thinking of the mysterious city and the few sketches and diagrams she had seen. Something seemed to connect in her thoughts.

"You're an Architect!" she exclaimed, looking at Yiayia in awe. Bright magenta lips curled into a smile and Yiayia nodded her confirmation.

"That startling mind of yours is truly remarkable, my darling," she replied, sniffing lightly. Holding out a hand, a cup of steaming coffee appeared. A silver spoon glinted slightly as it self stirred and Hermione simply stared, a number of questions suddenly wiping the apathy from her mind. _I never thought I would get a chance to meet a living Architect!_

"What do you know of the Architecture Guild?" Yiayia asked after a moment, her clear tones cutting across the waves in the background and through Hermione's whirling thoughts.

"Well… from my basic understanding, the Guild is similar to a Society, but with different rules… I suppose I don't quite understand the distinction," she replied, leaving the statement open in case Yiayia wanted to interject, but the witch just nodded.

"And?"

Hermione twisted her lips, brows drawing together as she reviewed what little she had read about the secretive organization.

"Well… Architecture is one of the most complicated disciplines in existence for the sheer amount of comprehensive knowledge that one must acquire. It is a highly secretive profession and requires a significant understanding of Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy, and Runes for a good deal of the practical components, but also demands an understanding of Magical History, Electromagical Energies, and the basic Muggle disciplines of physics and design. Sometimes also Astronomy, Necromancy, Neuromancy, and Herbology."

"Mmm… good. It seems you've divined the basics," Yiayia said, relaxing slightly and sipping her coffee. She smacked her lips for a moment before pinning Hermione with a narrowed gaze.

"Now, I gather you've fled the villa because you're at a loss for whether or not to remain with my niece and finish your studies… or whether to rejoin the Order of the Phoenix back in Great Britain."

Hermione blinked again, suddenly realizing how drained she felt. Yiayia was jumping from topic to topic in a manner that was beginning to grate on her mind. She chose not to reply, biting her lip instead and looking out toward the blue sea. The familiar sight was calming.

"Don't feel guilty for your thoughts, my darling," Yiayia murmured quietly, spoon clinking against her teacup with a silvery sound. "Now… might I also gather that Dia has presented you with a rather challenging ultimatum?"

Hermione sighed, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes as she sank back into her hammock slightly, pushing the sand away with her toes. The gentle rocking motion was helpful.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Yiayia said, shifting to swing her legs off the hammock and look at Hermione more directly.

"I cannot claim to know your thoughts, child… however I wonder if I might shed some light on your situation that may provide a bit more clarity for you?"

Hermione laughed mirthlessly and nodded, wiping her eyes even as she gave the witch next to her a beseeching look.

"Please," she whispered, forcing a smile even as her lips trembled. "Right now I think I need all the advice I can get."

Yiayia reached out and grasped her hand for a moment, squeezing it gently in a way that suddenly had Hermione wiping her eyes again. The small gesture was more reassuring than she had anticipated. _Merlin, you're falling apart._

"I'm going to tell you a little bit about everything," Yiayia said after a moment, her cup of coffee suddenly nowhere in sight. "A little bit about me, a little bit about you, and a little bit about my niece."

Hermione nodded her understanding, folding her legs into the hammock so that she could sit cross-legged while she listened. Another story she could handle; it was the making decisions part that gave her stress.

Yiayia gave her a soft smile and flicked a finger, conjuring a large pillow in Hermione's lap so that she could lean her elbows on it more comfortably.

"Let us go back a number of years… to the end of the First Wizarding War," Yiayia began, her eyes narrowing even as her focus slid beyond Hermione to where the rocks began to rise upwards in a striated wall. _Merlin, she's an Architect! I'm talking to an Architect!_

"I was still relatively active within the Guild and our role in the War was… _complicated._ My niece was firmly ensconced in Great Britain, studying beneath Minerva McGonagall who I assume you know well… and serving the illustrious Order of the Phoenix."

There was just a _hint_ of sarcasm coloring Yiayia's voice and Hermione briefly wondered about the witch's own opinions regarding the events of the past.

"Minerva said that Master Kallas was betrayed at the end of the War," Hermione said softly, trying to remember. "She said that… the enemy managed to use your family against her. And that whatever happened caused her to drop out of the Order and return to Greece."

If Yiayia was surprised that Hermione had already heard some of the story, she hid it well. Light eyes found hers immediately, but their contents were difficult to discern. Hermione thought that the witch might've been regretful.

"It is not my place to discuss those events," Yiayia said sadly. "However, you must understand the _effect_ that those events had upon my niece in order to understand her reasoning for what she asks of you now."

"Do you not trust Minerva?" Hermione interjected curiously. Something in the witch's tone of voice from before seemed to suggest that there were complications in that relationship.

"I would trust Minerva with my life," Yiayia replied, closing her eyes briefly. "You mistake my personal feelings for her to be a comment upon her integrity. I do not question that at all. We are merely vastly different personalities that do not always mesh very well. Perhaps our relationship would be different now."

Hermione nodded at that, a bit surprised that the other witch knew Minerva well enough to speak such a personal truth. She could just imagine Yiayia's outgoing personality and forthrightness meeting a challenging match against the intimidating and stoic Headmistress of Hogwarts. She almost chuckled trying to picture the two of them in a room together. _Sparks would fly at the very least…_

"Minerva was faced with difficult decisions during that time and her role in Diamantina's life was fulfilled to its purpose. They both learned a great deal from each other and grew marvelously as a result of their shared time."

Yiayia waved a hand as if clearing smoke and Hermione wet her lips, nodding as she agreed to let that point go.

"What I need you to understand, is that in the aftermath of those terrible terrible days, Diamantina fell into a great depression. Her faith in her friends was shattered… her faith in her way of life, her goals, truths about the world - _everything._ They managed to break her spirit, if you can imagine such a thing… and the process she went through to rebuild it was far from easy."

"What happened?" Hermione whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer. Yiayia gave her a long look as if to assess her readiness before charging on.

"At first Diamantina returned to Greece. The environment was far safer here, though I imagine the juxtaposition between war-torn Britain and the peaceful island was almost harder for her to bear," Yiayia said. Silently, Hermione had to agree.

"She had served on the Hellenic Council prior to her apprenticeship with Minerva. It was an unprecedented appointment for one so young - she was little older than you, in fact, but she took to her duties with natural ease. It ruffled many feathers when she chose to leave and pursue her Transfiguration Mastery, and so for many… her return from Great Britain seemed to be cause for celebration. Many assumed she would take up her previous position immediately and there were more than a few clamoring for her to ascend to the role of Council Leader."

"But she didn't, did she?"

"Indeed not."

Yiayia's voice was low and Hermione was struck by how seriously the witch was attending to their current conversation. The effusive mannerisms and warm asides she had come to associate with the witch were nowhere to be found.

"Diamantina returned to our family a broken witch…" Yiayia's eyes fluttered and she dropped her chin to look at her hands which were twisting her lap. "I admit, neither I nor my sister were in a position to help her. Her mother was beside herself in grief and I was too busy answering to the Guild to help my niece readjust to life at home. It is a time I greatly regret… and I shall always be forced to wonder if Diamantina would be a different woman today if had I taken the time to intervene."

It seemed rather large burden to take upon oneself and Hermione found herself frowning, hard-pressed to imagine how Yiayia could blame herself so fully… and for what? _Master Kallas is a remarkable person… why would she want to change anything?_

Yiayia sniffed and looked out along the beach, one glistening trail working its way down the side of her cheek.

"Dia was home for less than two weeks. And then she disappeared."

Hermione sat back at that, but before she could ask where the witch had gone, Yiayia sniffed and gave a mirthless chuckle.

"No one… and I mean _no one_ knows where Diamantina went. She will not speak of it. Not even to this day."

Yiayia sat forward and extended a hand into the space between them, palm down toward Hermione. Her expression was solemn.

"I entreat you not to ask about it, Hermione. Wherever she went, it is a place and time in her life of which she is not proud. It causes her great pain to recall it… and for her sake, I encourage you to respect her privacy."

Light hazel eyes were regarding her in a mix of pain and pleading. Feeling her heart pounding in her throat, Hermione gave an emphatic nod. _Gods… what happened to her?_

"Do you have… any idea what might have happened to her during that time?" Hermione asked quietly. Yiayia pursed her lips for a moment before continuing as if she hadn't heard the question.

"Diamantina was gone for close to eight months. She returned abruptly when my sister - her mother passed away… when it became clear that there was no one to care for her older sister's children. I was the next in line to take them, but Dia appeared out of nowhere and insisted."

It took a moment for Hermione to understand the family relationships that Yiayia was explaining. _Older sister's children?_

Her eyes widened.

"Master Kallas raised Ana?" Hermione asked incredulously. _That would explain their close relationship… and maybe the disagreement I witnessed._

"Dia took charge of both Ana and her older brother, Konstantinos, whom I hear you will be meeting tomorrow for dinner. Lovely boy. You'll like him immensely," Yiayia explained with a sigh, recrossing her legs.

"She devoted herself toward educating the both of them… caring for them… nurturing them in a way that was almost militant in the demands upon her time, attention, and devotion. They became quite the trio for awhile and you've already seen how Angeliki still answers to her aunt with single-minded attachment," Yiayia sighed again, shaking her head. "She was just shy of ten years old when they lost their parents. Konstantinos had just come of age and was no stranger to what was happening abroad, but for Ana… it was a terrible blow."

"I… didn't know," Hermione whispered, trying to imagine the horror of losing one's family so young. _Her parents first, it seems… and then not even a year later, her grandmother… all right before receiving her first wand._

"You have a remarkable ability for empathy, Hermione," Yiayia murmured, giving her a sad smile. "Consider it a gift… for there are many in this world who have no concept of trying to understand someone else's pain. However in this case, there is no need to feel guilty… nor to apologize for absorbing information and events that happened far before your time… and were entirely out of your control."

Hermione bit her lower lip and nodded, sniffing slightly as she worked to rein in her spiraling emotions. _She's right. You can't apologize for the past… you can only listen and try to figure out what do about **your** future._

"I'm telling all of this to you, darling… not to confuse you further nor to sway you into remaining in place alongside my niece," Yiayia stated calmly, before wincing. "Well, maybe a _little_ bit… I have grown rather fond of you."

The witch winked and Hermione chuckled, adjusting her legs to the left so that she could lean her elbow on the pillow and listen more comfortably.

"But, it seems to me that Dia has you at a disadvantage with her harsh proposal. You come from a place and a culture where things and people are bit more black and white… or, a bit more transparent, I might gather. Do you feel this is true?"

Hermione frowned, thinking about her final years Hogwarts. They had always possessed a very clear endgame - destroy Voldemort at all costs. Dumbledore's opaque instructions had led them into hazier areas, and the Ministry's involvement had certainly come as a rude awakening…

"Somewhat," she answered eventually. "I think the War taught me a great deal more about grey areas… but yes, I do think that the majority of my schooling at Hogwarts primarily saw me interacting with others who view the world as I do. We were… reckless at times. Self-righteous, even. Our goals were clear cut and we handled our way through trickier areas by simply blazing down the doors."

"Then it must be hard for you to trust someone who deals specifically in the grey," Yiayia put forth. Hermione wrinkled her nose, not entirely sure she agreed with the statement.

"Master Kallas _is_ an enigma, at times," Hermione admitted, unsure of what to say. "But I've learned so much from her already…"

Yiayia remained silent, clearly waiting for her to work through the churning thoughts in her mind.

Hermione trusted Master Kallas. Everything she knew and understood and had experienced with the woman pointed to the fact that the witch was secretive, yes… but there had been nothing to indicate that the witch had anything but Hermione's well-being in mind. True, being left out of the loop was incredibly irritating, but Hermione supposed that in the course of her apprenticeship and during war for that matter, secrecy was sometimes paramount.

 _Just like Mastery societies in general… you knew what you were signing up for..._

"I think I am less troubled by the fact that Master Kallas would traverse grey areas in order to achieve her goals than I am about the physical distance from the Order," Hermione said slowly, also absorbing how earnestly her statement rang true. _Yes…_

"You would willingly join the Order knowing that Diamantina could order you to withhold information from your childhood friends and mentors?" Yiayia asked seriously. Hermione bit her lip.

"Yes, I think I would," she replied honestly. _I trust her..._

"What if she asks you to withhold information that will result in loss of life?" Yiayia asked.

Hermione's eyes widened in horror.

"I… sh… she wouldn't!"

"Taking a leadership role in war means making choices that will undoubtedly trickle down and affect other lives. Sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," Yiayia explained softly.

"What, are you Spock now?" Hermione asked bitterly, punching the pillow to adjust it as she shifted. Yiayia frowned in confusion and Hermione heaved a sigh.

"Why are you asking me these questions?" she pleaded instead, feeling more overwhelmed than she had a moment before.

"I'm playing the devil's advocate, Hermione, just so that you will have considered the ramifications of your choice… my agenda is my own. At the moment it simply seeks to help you clarify yours," Yiayia stated calmly, opening both hands in a casual gesture. Hermione's eyes narrowed. _Why does every goddamn person have to have their own agenda?_

"Why?" she snapped.

"A number of reasons, I suppose," Yiayia said, her musical tones drawn and serious. Light eyes pierced her own intensely.

"The first of which is that you are someone that my niece cares about… and she is currently unable to advise you in an impartial manner. The second is in regard to my own curious nature… you are a brilliant witch, Hermione, with a significant grasp of your magic. That is a powerful combination, and selfishly, I am curious as to whether or not I will have the continued opportunity of working with you and helping you develop your skills. The last reason I admit is _completely_ self-serving…"

Yiayia spread her hands again, her gold rings twinkling as they caught a bit of sun.

"The quicker you make a decision, the quicker I can make decisions about how to handle my niece - choosing which tasks I can ask of her and which ones I cannot. Technically, if we boil it down to economics, _you_ are Diamantina's boss. Your apprenticeship proceeds at _your_ behest… not hers."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, stunned at the notion.

"I hardly agree with that… I should like to think that Master Kallas and I are partners in many ways," she replied, somewhat irritated that Yiayia would distill their agreement down to its economics. _Yes, my tuition pays her a bit of salary for teaching… but Master Kallas could dismiss me just as easily as I dismiss myself!_

The magenta lips curved again and Yiayia sighed.

"I am old, darling. Despite what you see, I am not a spry as I once was and I need significant help to enact change in this complicated world. The Kefalas women have always been our own Order of sorts… and as I believe my niece may have mentioned, this particular plot which your friends in Great Britain are also assessing, happens to have a key tie to my own life. I simply wish to know whether or not I can count on Diamantina's presence or not."

"Do you not want us to rejoin the Order?" Hermione asked softly, afraid of the answer.

"You ask the wrong question, my darling," Yiayia said patiently, a touch of familiar warmth recoloring her tones. She gave Hermione a half-smile. "In my world _and_ in Diamantina's, the Order of the Phoenix serves the same side that we do… as I imagine other organizations and alliances that will inevitably crop up will also, if we are to work beyond borders to counter this new threat."

Yiayia sat forward, pointing a ringed finger toward Hermione even as she pinned her with a steady gaze.

"The question you must ask yourself… is _where_ do you wish to be when everything begins to quicken? Who do you wish at your side when it comes time for battle... when events begin to connect and join… it's the _where_ that matters."

"Home," Hermione answered immediately before shaking her curls. "But that's selfish of me. If you were to ask the same question of Master Kallas, would she not answer 'home' as well?"

Yiayia's eyebrows rose thoughtfully and she sat back.

"I can't say I know for certain, my darling. Perhaps a question you should ask her," she replied lightly. At Hermione's dubious expression, Yiayia chuckled and shifted slightly so that she was closer to reclining on one side, her black curls fluttering in the breeze.

"Diamantina is a product of her experiences just as you are of yours. The last time she charged into a War heedless of the consequences, it cost her greatly in ways that can never be repaid. Her need for control comes from those experiences… and also, I believe, from whatever guilt she still harbors from that time she spent away from all of us. However, _home_ in this instance does not give her the measure of control and involvement that the Order could offer. Greece will always be a bit by the wayside when it comes to world affairs, and though we are resourceful, the Kefalas women are considerably less organized and must operate much more carefully."

Hermione frowned as she processed that explanation. It made sense… and helped assuage her fears that she was going to end up dragging her Master into another War against her consent. But she was also reluctant to dismiss Greece as a potential breeding ground for trouble… it _was_ , after all, home to one of the oldest and most well-documented civilizations on Earth.

However, Hermione elected to keep those thoughts to herself for the moment. _Now who has her own agenda?_

"You never answered my question from before… do you know where Master Kallas went after she left the Order? Before she settled in to raise her niece and nephew?" she asked eventually.

Yiayia's jaw worked for a moment and Hermione had the impression that the witch was surprised by the redirection.

"It is little more than an aunt's intuition, however I believe Diamantina was nearly seduced to the Dark side of magic," Yiayia replied heavily.

It was not at all the answer Hermione had expected.

"What?! But after all that had happened to her? Your family?!" she cried.

"What would your reaction have been if Death Eaters had torn your family asunder and burnt your goals and ideals into the earth?" Yiayia asked sharply, causing Hermione to flinch backward.

"I…" She swallowed heavily before blinking and setting her jaw. _I.. understand.  
_

"There's a good chance I would have wanted to exact revenge."

"Precisely," Yiayia whispered, her eyes full of pain. "Death and destruction… particularly when enacted with senseless violence force us to confront ourselves in the aftermath. Even the strongest of us are seduced by the temptation to strike back. And frequently, it's a reaction that serves us well… what better way to ensure our enemy's defeat than by destroying them in response?"

Yiayia shook her head, her countenance growing heavy.

"The problem occurs when the enemy doesn't fight fair… with zero regard for honor or integrity. Then what?"

Hermione listened with wide-eyes, head shaking slightly as she tried to imagine. She had nearly been presented with those circumstances during the final years of the War, but thankfully she had managed to protect her family… and the majority of her friends had lived. _But… if anything had unfolded differently… Merlin above… 'then what' indeed?_

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I don't know what I would do."

"Fire is fought with fire. Water with water. Air with air. Earth with Earth," Yiayia whispered. "Sometimes we can rearrange the elements to balance the equation in different ways. Water cancels fire. Earth grounds air. The energy stabilizes. But what do you do, my child… when the elements are bent and warped? When your enemy perverts nature and crafts something unrecognizable that has no earthly business resounding in our world?"

"I-I don't know…" Hermione whispered again, afraid of the reply.

Yiayia blinked.

"Let us hope you shall never have cause to find out," she said seriously.

Hermione took a deep breath, her mind suddenly overwhelmed with the new information that Yiayia had just dealt her. The events of the Order meeting hung in the back of her mind like a dark backdrop against which to frame all of her impending choices.

 _Where do you want to be?_ That question seemed to have answered itself.

But... something still felt out of place.

"How do _you_ relate to all of this, Yiayia?" Hermione asked suspiciously, sitting up to drape her legs over the edge of the hammock again.

"How do you mean?"

" _You_ started this conversation by talking about the Architecture Guild… and all this history about Master Kallas and me being unfamiliar with indirect, shady pathways… and all the while you're telling me you want to help me because Master Kallas can't be impartial, when _really_ … you're not doing a very good job of it either! _You're_ just as wrapped up in all of this as the rest of us!"

Hermione was on her feet, one finger pointing accusingly at Yiayia who remained sprawled out in her hammock. She was suddenly irate beyond measure. _Who does she think she is?_

"Touché, my darling," Yiayia said, wincing slightly as she pressed herself up to sitting. Rather than rise to face Hermione directly, the older woman remained seated, looking up at her with a tired expression. Hermione was again disconcerted by the unnaturally youthful body before her.

"We have determined the heart of your struggle, Hermione. You must decide _where_ you wish to situate yourself during this impending conflict," Yiayia summarized softly. "From there, your decision will trickle down to affect my niece, her niece, others in our family, and me, myself."

Hermione exhaled slowly, feeling an immense amount of pressure weigh down upon her. She folded her arms, still unwilling to let go of her irritation.

"There are some practical things to which I wish to draw your attention to and then I will answer your question as to my place in all of this."

Yiayia gestured toward her hammock and Hermione moved backward to sit again without breaking eye contact.

"Consider this, Hermione. _Home_ is the location with which you wish to align yourself… surrounded by friends and mentors who likely fought at your side during the last War and with whom you could see yourself fighting again," Yiayia said, her voice gaining a bit more of the youthful energy that Hermione had come to appreciate.

"Imagine for a moment, that you finish your first classifications with my niece and decide to return home immediately after. What will you do?"

Hermione opened her mouth and blinked. What _would_ she do? A first-classification was a stepping-stone but a rather small one. She could take a position at the Ministry, but it would be entry-level.

She didn't want to attend the Auror Academy. Which left pursuing her education in a different manner...

"I suppose I would perhaps ask to apprentice beneath Minerva," Hermione replied uncertainly, already feeling the threads of betrayal wind through her at the notion. _You promised Master Kallas that you would re-evaluate your contract after your third classifications._

"Do you believe she would accept you?" Yiayia asked.

"Yes," Hermione replied without hesitation. But then she bit her lip. "Though… her role as Headmistress would leave little time to devote to our studies. It would be… slow, I suppose."

"Perhaps even more so if Minerva intends to continue leading the Order," Yiayia murmured thoughtfully. "Do you believe you would enjoy that?"

"No," Hermione whispered, feeling tears gather at the corners of her eyes. "But-"

"Was it difficult, last night? Arriving to the meeting in Great Britain?" Yiayia asked carefully.

"No, but-"

"Would you feel better attending Order meetings on your own terms?" the elder witch pressed.

"I… don't think so," Hermione breathed after a moment, feeling a wonderful wave of clarity sweep through her. Startled, she looked to Yiayia with wide eyes.

"As much as I thought it would make me more comfortable… I know that the Order will soon be split into the two generations. The majority of them still view me and my fellow friends as children. I imagine that it would be difficult for me to achieve a place of power within the Order... or for them to task me with information or missions that could be critical to our success."

"Let me ask one final question," Yiayia murmured, sitting forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "If you were to remain with Diamantina, do you think you would be more or less equipped to deal with whatever the Order intends?"

 _There's your answer._

Hermione was nodding to herself, suddenly sure of what she wanted.

 _You are better with Master Kallas than you are without her… you can do **more** to help the Order at her side than you can do alone._

"Thank you, Yiayia," Hermione said earnestly, smiling softly even as she continued worrying her bottom lip in her teeth. _You have to stay. It's the best option and you know it's the right one._

The elder witch's face broke into a tired smile, but Hermione was pleased to see a bit more of the twinkle in the hazel gaze. Reaching out, she grasped the woman's smaller hand… surprised at both its strength and fragility.

"Now… I _did_ promise to answer your question about _me_ ," Yiayia announced, sitting back and lifting a dark brow for a moment before pouting dramatically. "Unless you don't care anymore."

Hermione gave a short chuckle and wiped her hands over her face, feeling remarkably light and refreshed.

"Yes. I did. What are you up to, Yiayia? That was the _least_ convincing conversation toward proving your impartiality in all this, and you've _clearly_ managed to achieve your goal of making me stay with Master Kallas... so... _why?_ Why does it matter to you? And what are you involved with that creates such cause to make it matter?"

With her decision still radiating at the back of her mind like a beacon of clarity, Hermione allowed herself to smile and sink back... burying her toes in the warm sand even as Yiayia tossed her a saucy grin.

She could _do_ this.

It was the best of all worlds.


	33. Chapter 33

_A/N: I admit this went off in a totally different direction than I had anticipated, but it still serves. Actually, I'm rather thrilled by this new development._

 _But first, in which we learn a bit more about Yiayia..._

* * *

Yiayia smiled at Hermione fondly before raking a ringed hand through her short curls, and Hermione was struck again by how close she felt to the witch across from her. While she was reasonably irritated that Yiayia had markedly shoved her down a pathway littered with the witch's own influence to arrive to her decision, Hermione also understood that she would have come to the same conclusion on her own… perhaps just via a different road.

 _What was it that Master Kallas said last night? "I am assured that despite the many potential pathways that one can take to arrive to a destination… both the Order and I are on the same path toward Light. I will never deviate from that…"_

It seemed Yiayia was of similar mindset.

It felt good to have come to a decision regarding the Order of the Phoenix, and Hermione was confident that her choice would permit her the best of all possible worlds. She also hoped that she hadn't upset her master too intensely with her emotional tendency to vacillate… from the look on the witch's face when she had departed that morning, Hermione imagined that Master Kallas had been afraid she wouldn't return.

 _Merlin, you need to work on affirming your relationship with her… you can't just run to any old uninhabited island anytime you need to work through things. You need to_ _ **talk**_ _with her..._

Hermione supposed that they would also have to have the conversation that _clearly_ outlined the parameters of their arrangement. Remaining in the dark on certain points would be one of the greatest challenges to their relationship, but Hermione imagined she could bear the weight of her master's agenda so long as she felt she retained enough autonomy to make choices regarding her own future.

She hoped that Master Kallas would be amenable to a discussion about it… and distantly, Hermione also hoped that her friends in Great Britain would agree with her choice and take it in stride…

Still caught in the whirling thoughts that surrounded her new decision, Hermione started as Yiayia shifted and began to speak.

"At the risk of dousing your newfound epiphany in a bit of dire extrapolation, I wonder if you remember the name of Theodotus Ambrozaitys?" Yiayia asked airily, sighing slightly before reclining back in the hammock with both arms spread across the macrame.

"Yes," Hermione frowned, reaching down to brush sand off one ankle as she recalled her conversation with Master Kallas from the night previous. "Master Kallas said that he was the Head Architect at the Sagrada Familia. She said that she suspects he was killed by foul play."

"Indeed."

Yiayia was silent for a moment, gazing down at her right hand quietly while her left hand adjusted the many rings absently. The sun had shifted slightly and the shadow from the outcropping of rock was beginning to wane. The day was growing rather warm.

"Architects have always held a rather odd place in Wizarding society, Hermione," Yiayia mused softly, "As you indicated toward the beginning of our conversation, the Guild is similar to a Society in its inner-workings, though it's a bit more open-ended. Perhaps more like an exclusive members-only club. Unlike Societies, we are not bound to our Masters when we train… our magic is a bit _deeper_."

"Deeper than bonding?" Hermione asked incredulously. _What could be deeper than sharing emotions?_

"You must think of Architecture as a discipline that goes _beyond_ the building of physical objects in space," Yiayia purred, her eyes lidded in a way that suggested she was beginning to touch on something deeply personal.

"Anyone can dabble in the spells and enchantments to enlarge a living space, render a house Unplottable, or change physical constraints to meet the needs of its occupants. _True_ Architects, Hermione, have the ability to create magic that has the potential to infuse a degree of sentience into the works - a form of self-awareness, if you will. Bringing _life_ or a _spirit_ into a space that will transform it from a physical husk into an energetic and unique _place_ … an act that requires no small amount of coordination and energy, and the utilization of special skills that many in the general populace would find… troubling."

Hermione listened wide-eyed as Yiayia sat forward.

"This work is _sacred_ , Hermione. It is never entered into lightly and the training is arduous because all Architects infuse a bit of their own magic into a finished product. And I mean that _literally_ , my darling. A part of oneself is left behind in every new creation, and it is an act that both generates the spirit of a work… and replenishes the maker."

Unexpectedly, Hermione found herself thinking of horcruxes and she shuddered softly. Yiayia tsked softly.

"Do not confuse our magic with the Dark Arts, my dear. I see you have experienced the abominations of Soul-Shatterers. Architecture is the opposite. It is our task to create through pure joy and elation. Love, _not_ desecration," Yiayia said firmly. "Though the manner in which the two perspectives are rendered is, admittedly, somewhat similar. To bring a spirit into this world deals with powerful energies. Soul magic."

"Necromancy?" Hermione breathed uncertainly. Yiayia tilted her head.

"A lighter form of it at times," she agreed. "However we primarily deal in Neuromancy… the process of distilling thought into form. Shaping reality through willpower and bending the world and our magic to fit the final image."

"That sounds incredibly powerful… and dangerous," Hermione said after a moment, attempting to fathom what such magic would look like. _I suppose it reminds me of the Room of Requirement…_

"Indeed."

"Is that why you're so good at wandless magic?" Hermione asked suddenly, thinking to the fact that she had never actually _seen_ Yiayia's wand.

"Very astute," Yiayia smiled, wiggling her fingers suggestively. "My skills rarely require the use of a wand and I deign to use one except for detail-oriented work."

"And you haven't received any discrimination because of it?" Hermione asked in surprise. While Hermione knew that Uagadou specialized in wandless magic, she recalled that Master Kallas always carried her wand for the purpose of covering her own abilities from prying eyes. Europeans were rather close-minded about so called "alternative" forms of magic.

"Fortunately I am in a place in life where I tend to operate amongst those I know well, my dear," Yiayia replied. "However, yes… whenever I venture someplace new, I tend to bring my wand as a fail-safe. Though many still recognize my profession by virtue of the rings."

Yiayia held out her right hand for Hermione to view. _Merlin… she has to have at least forty or more!_

"Each ring represents a completed project," Yiayia explained, glancing at the glittering array fondly. "It is a both a subtle and obvious nod to my abilities. My friend Theo bought me my very first after we completed our first project together. Can't say we were ever very modest."

Yiayia chuckled as Hermione moved closer, fascinated by the strange variety of markings and jewels inlaid on several that must have symbolized specific projects. The effect was impressive to say the least.

"Merlin, Yiayia… this is _a lot_ ," Hermione breathed while the witch merely hummed in reply. From what she had read, Architects worked slowly… sometimes spending decades on a single project. The sheer number of rings on Yiayia's hand either betrayed how powerful a witch she was _or_ that she had participated in a number of collaborations, allowing her to work more quickly. Somehow, Hermione found her intuition pointing toward the former option.

A moment later, she blinked as something else connected.

"You said Theo. As in… Theodotus Ambrozaitys?"

" _Neh_ …" Yiayia said sadly, the Greek 'yes' sounding pained and quiet. Hermione's breath caught as one hand flew to her mouth, the other reaching out to cover Yiayia's hand with her own.

"Merlin, I'm so sorry for your loss…" Hermione said softly, watching sadly as the witch's face fell.

"Theo was one of my first friends," Yiayia whispered, patting Hermione's hand softly before pulling back a bit. "A true charmer… idiotic and arrogant at times, such as all men can be... but deeply loyal, courageous, and selfless in a manner that is rarely seen except by the truly _good_. He was an excellent Architect and an honorable man. I am fortunate that there are a number of his works still in existence that still contain his spirit."

Hermione felt an unpleasant jolt.

"Yiayia, you said that your work… replenishes the maker? Did you… mean?" Hermione trailed off with her tentative question, beginning to gaze curiously at the witch's youthful appearance. Her stomach flip-flopped as she considered the ramifications of her question. One dark brow rose.

"Yes, I _did_ mean, Hermione," Yiayia said seriously, grasping her hand again and leaning forward. "And now you are privy to one of the greatest held secrets of my Guild. Something omitted from every book, undisclosed in every professional forum… a secret, my darling, that is known only to Architects and their closest friends and family."

Hermione gasped, suddenly uncomfortable with the amount of knowledge she had just been dealt.

"Wh-why tell me?" she whispered, unsure of how she felt. _Are Architects immortal? What does it mean to be replenished?_

"Because it will save you the unnecessary journey of discovering it for yourself later," Yiayia smirked, crossing her ankles demurely. "Undoubtedly our continued line of inquiry would have eventually crossed over into the territory of Guild secrets, and knowing you, I would have been hard-pressed to avoid your thorough research. I am simply cutting my losses by telling you a few things straight away."

"Are you immortal?" Hermione whispered, almost afraid of the answer.

She was relieved and only slightly embarrassed when Yiayia laughed.

"Sweet Circe, no! What a terrible trade-off that would be!" she chuckled. "No, my dear… the body you see before you has been replenished many a time but there are places it still betrays its age. No doubt you find difficult to look at it?"

"Y-yes… it's like, I can't quite see you," Hermione said in puzzlement, blinking to try and clear her vision. It was easier if she looked at the witch out of her periphery… the smooth olive skin and toned shapes seemed clearer. When she looked head on… the details seemed smudged.

Yiayia smiled sadly.

"Indeed. For I am not completely _here_ in the physical sense. With each project I am sustained anew… the impact depending on the significance of the magic. My life is prolonged… but my body begins to lose its connection to the physical world. Each success means I am one step closer to returning to the energy from whence we all came."

"I… that…" Hermione didn't have words to express the horror she felt. To lose one's connection to the physical world? What about touch? Sensation? Connection with others?

"It's terrifying," Yiayia said simply, easily reading into the look on her face. "It took me a great long while to come to terms with it. It is one of the main reasons why there are so few Architects in existence. Many begin the training, but the majority leave before ever completing their first project."

"Is this what you really look like?" Hermione asked, again fearing the answer. Somehow her mind had created the image of a beautiful husk that would crumble away to reveal some sort of invisible being beneath. She shivered again.

"Yes and no," Yiayia replied with another smile. "It is what _I_ believe I look like and what _you_ believe I look like, therefore I am what we believe."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Of course it does, my dear. Our reality is what we believe it to be - that is the basis for all life and connection as we understand it," Yiayia replied, smoothing her short dress with a sure hand.

"But what _are_ you?"

"If you stick around long enough, I'm sure you'll see eventually," Yiayia replied, sighing gently.

Hermione couldn't let it go.

"Can you feel? Does your body still process sensation? How do you Apparate?"

"I'm not an alien. I'm not a ghost. I'm a witch, darling. Same as you… only a bit older, wiser, and with a few uncommon modifications to my person," Yiayia said firmly, seeming to indicate the matter was closed. Hermione bit her lip, still off-put by this new information.

"I'm sorry, Yiayia… it's… that's just _a lot_ ," she murmured, suddenly ill at ease with the woman across from her.

A moment later Yiayia's hands were upon her, resting on her knees as Hermione stared… a strange flutter of anxiety in her chest.

"Touch my hands, Hermione," Yiayia commanded. Flinching slightly, Hermione placed her hands atop Yiayia's. They were strong… but fragile.

"Do you feel me?"

"Yes," she answered timidly.

"Touch my arms."

Hermione hands ghosted up smooth arms, feeling the warmth they exuded, the muscles and bones beneath. Her brow furrowed, she reached Yiayia's narrow shoulders.

"My hair…"

The dark curls were silky as they slid through her fingers, and Hermione started to breathe easier. Light hazel eyes stared at her kindly and she was relieved to see that the witch's face was clear to her vision… and that up close, she could see more fine lines upon the light skin… like the barest dusting of time.

"If you closed your eyes right now, would that make me any less real?" Yiayia asked softly.

"No," Hermione whispered, suddenly understanding what the witch meant.

"If I were Disillusioned and rendered invisible, would _that_ make me any less real?"

"All right…" Hermione breathed, sitting back and running a hand through her own curls. "I get it."

 _She's real… she's still human… just… parts of her are_ _ **not**_ _._ It was still difficult to wrap her mind around, but Hermione felt reassured.

"I am sorry to have frightened you, my darling," Yiayia said apologetically, sitting back again and spreading both arms wide upon the hammock.

"However, I warn you that the higher you ascend in _any_ discipline, the more you will discover such blurring between matter and energy. Only the most refined minds can fathom the limits of magic… it's terribly exciting once you get down to it."

Hermione fell silent, wondering what lay ahead of her in the realm of Transfiguration… or Potions, even. Would she ever get to those heights? More importantly, did she even _want_ to?

"Let us return to matters of the immediate world," Yiayia suggested, waving a hand overhead. The simple reed mat above them knitted itself together more carefully and the small flecks of sunshine that had been poking through were quickly extinguished.

Hermione wet her lips and readjusted… sitting with her elbows planted on her knees as her toes continued to bury into the cool sand. Her right toe encountered something hard.

"Now… the matter of Theo and his untimely death. My friend was known for making spur-of-the-moment inspections in the middle of the night. One of his most notable and frustrating habits stemming from Grindelwald's War when he kept the nightwatch," Yiayia said, fluttering her hands as she spoke.

"It was apparently during one of these late night excursions that he was killed. Now. I want you to _think_ , Hermione. Preliminary Auror reports indicate that Theo was killed upon impact when three of the spires fell upon him at the Sagrada Familia."

"I have a hard time imagining _any_ wizard allowing themselves to be crushed by several tonnes of stone," Hermione replied immediately, frowning as she tried to imagine such a strange set of circumstances. "Why not Apparate away? Cast a Shield Charm? Levitate or destroy the rocks?"

"Good. The most obvious questions bear further consideration," Yiayia's gaze was shrewd even as Hermione watched her twist one ring with renewed vigor. "What else?"

"Was he alone?"

"There was no evidence of tampering, spells, or hexes in the vicinity nor any form of potion in his system," Yiayia replied evenly.

"So they don't know for certain," Hermione deduced, thinking hard. "It's possible that they tampered with the diagnostics… or that someone in the investigation is covering it up."

Yiayia raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a half-smile. She chuckled even as Hermione continued to think. _Master Kallas said something about being killed for his research… what else?_

"Dia said you were quick," Yiayia said, her voice laced with wry amusement. "I suppose I _am_ a bit surprised that you aren't currently in training to become an Auror. Your deductive reasoning is excellent."

Hermione made a face and ignored the question. Her toes had uncovered the outline of a seashell.

"How long was your friend working on the Sagrada Familia?" she asked, still thinking about what could have forced a full-grown, likely _powerful_ wizard, to remain in the pathway of certain destruction. _If it wasn't a spell… then perhaps he stayed of his own volition..._

"Theo stepped in around 1978 and took over the project in 1981, I believe," Yiayia replied watching Hermione's face carefully. The glare from the sun had grown rather intense and Hermione was staring down at her toes, digging around the shell's smooth exterior with absent-minded purpose.

"What was he doing before that?" she asked, already fearing the answer. _Ascending toward those limits we just talked about? Maybe someone outside the Guild found out...  
_

"That's the winning question, my darling…" Yiayia hissed, sitting forward and steepling her fingers. Her posture seemed agitated and jumpy, and Hermione glanced to her right, intuitively understanding that the witch had thought intensely on the matter… and that it was a highly emotional subject for her.

"Does Master Kallas know all of this?" Hermione asked quietly, certain that she already knew the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

Yiayia looked at her in confusion before her elegant features smoothed.

"Of course," she replied, rubbing her thumbs together. "Though now that she's accepted the Order's mission to Guatemala, her attentions are understandably split until she carries out that particular task. In the meantime, however, I have decided to work with you," Yiayia replied, tilting her head slightly. Hermione sat back in surprise, brows drawing together.

"Why me?" Hermione whispered. "Why not Ana or Konstantinos or -"

"Because in the event that I carry out further research and investigation into this matter, it would draw far too much attention if I brought a member of my own family along," Yiayia said seriously. "It would be far easier to pretend that either you're _my_ Apprentice, which wouldn't be such a stretch to imagine with your staggering intellect… or that I'm simply pitching in to help educate you on other facets of the Wizarding world as a favor to my niece. Which would be conveniently true."

 _Wow._

Hermione's eyebrows lifted and she dropped her focus back to the partially uncovered shell. The outer edge was smooth and white and she could just make out the hint of a beautiful pink and lavender interior still buried in the sand.

 _It's like you… you're not even fully uncovered and already she's trying to draw out your potential._

Part of her was flattered by the offer and admittedly already halfway hooked in wanting to discover what happened to Theodotus Ambrozaitys. What Yiayia offered had the chance to be practical experience in the art of gathering information… and an actual opportunity to pitch in and help undermine the mysterious threat that loomed upon the horizon.

But then, another voice whispered.

 _Or she's just using you._

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she set her jaw, looking back toward Yiayia with what she hoped was a solemn expression.

"Tell me more," she commanded seriously. The witch blinked, but then Yiayia's lips curled into a satisfied smile and she gave Hermione a subtle nod.

"You _are_ learning how to play the game, Hermione," she said approvingly. "Good. Never assume that you can divine everything about others' motivations, no matter what you believe you understand about their words, emotions, or actions. However, you are still falling back on your fire. There are other methods of getting me to tell you what want you want to know."

Hermione waited, chewing on one lip thoughtfully as Yiayia fixed her with a sly smile. She was reassured that the elder witch was still continuing their lessons, and something in the woman's posture suggested that she was about to shift into a working lecture-mode, similar to Master Kallas.

While she trusted Yiayia implicitly in the same manner she did Master Kallas, Hermione was beginning to understand the subtle ways in which both witches worked. Anytime they shared information with her, it was because they had already calculated some sort of internal wager that telling her was more advantageous to leaving her in the dark.

They held their cards where they could see them. If Hermione was going to learn the art of gleaning information, then she couldn't constantly blow down the doors whenever she wanted to know something. She would have to use their skills against them and somehow make them believe that telling her would be to their advantage.

 _If you're going to practice your skills on anyone, Yiayia and Master Kallas are likely the most challenging adversaries you can get._

Smirking inwardly, Hermione filed that thought away for later. Her toe poked the shell.

 _They can help draw out your potential… but_ _ **you**_ _have to do all of the digging yourself._

"I suppose I have two questions then, Yiayia," Hermione said eventually, schooling her features into something a bit more subdued and curious. "The first - how do you know that Master Kallas will approve of your plan? The second - where is it do you intend to start?"

"Better, darling," Yiayia replied, smiling at her fondly even as she sat back and pressed the hammock into a gentle rocking motion. "Much better. Here is what I propose…"

Hermione sat back and listened, aware that she was committing herself to an entirely new way of walking through the world. Surprisingly, she felt invigorated by the challenge.

 _If you succeed at this, you will be a greater asset to the Order… and you will learn things that can help protect the people you love._ _ **That**_ _is a worthy goal._

With one ear open to Yiayia's unfolding plan, Hermione distantly made herself a second promise.

 _Just don't lose yourself in the labyrinth._


	34. Chapter 34

_A/N: Thank you always for the feedback - I love it all, the questions, comments, worries, likes/dislikes... keep it coming! It helps my process tremendously!_

* * *

Dia sat upon one of the low outdoor couches on the veranda outside her bedroom, curls tossing in the wind as she reviewed her notes with a frown. With no word from Eleni or Stelios, she had decided to move forth with the task she had accepted from the Order, electing to begin her research with a thorough investigation of the witch, Elizabeth Waterhouse.

Since Hermione's departure, Dia had been restless… unable to read the course of her apprentice's mood once she had left the island. Rationally, she knew that the distance would be helpful to Hermione. The young woman was still learning how to temper her blazing first impressions and to look toward the future with greater objectivity. When it came to situations that did not involve her directly, Hermione was rather accomplished for one so young. But with pressure of her friends and loved ones hanging upon her shoulders, Dia could understand the witch's uncertainty.

Her aunt had stopped by around noon, and while her presence had been a unexpectedly welcome distraction, Yiayia had quickly lost patience when Dia had revealed her new assignment upon the Order's behalf. While she had agreed that Petrus D'Artagnan's involvement was troubling, Yiayia had been insistent that Dia return her efforts toward uncovering the mysterious circumstances of Theodotus' death. The ensuing disagreement had boiled down to differences in perspective and old lines of loyalty between the disciplines, though Dia's ire had skyrocketed with her aunt's dramatic departure which had subsequently filled the kitchen with enough smoke that she had been forced to open all the windows.

It was not often that they disagreed, though Dia knew that Yiayia had never been able to treat the Order of the Phoenix with her typically jovial objectivity. While Yiayia's unique abilities had uncovered additional information to aid in the investigation surrounding her old friend, Dia's own intuition pointed more fervently toward her former allegiance with Minerva. And, despite her continued annoyance with her former mentor, Dia was convinced that Petrus D'Artagnan was not a threat that they could afford to ignore.

Turning back to her research, Dia cleared her mind and continued to read. Her work would endure with or without an apprentice and certainly with or without support from her aunt.

With a sigh, Dia mulled over the copy of an addendum attached to Elizabeth Waterhouse's most recent travel grant.

Thus far, her initial assessment had offered very little as to the nature of the witch's value.

Waterhouse had indeed become a successful archaeologist in the last decade, though Dia was less impressed for the woman's discoveries than for her shrewd business sense and the uncompromising manner in which she had handled her accounts. The witch seemed to have a monopoly upon sites uncovered in the northeastern corner of Guatemala, the northern half of Belize, and a small area of México to the south… and Dia was almost certain that she would uncover a series of unorthodox methods behind the witch's success.

Most of the witch's "discoveries" had been found in urban zones - a majority uncovered during Muggle construction work and quickly seized by Waterhouse and her teams. It seemed that the witch had consistently managed to circumvent a plethora of problems with each new discovery; several miraculous strokes of luck had avoided local politics, permits, zoning privileges, and governmental authorizations, and it seemed that Waterhouse had been adept at returning to her own granting organizations and earning special exceptions to most of her funding parameters.

Dia would have to wait until arriving into the States before gaining further access to the MACUSA networks and messaging her contacts at Gringotts-Knox, but all the signs seemed to indicate that Waterhouse had wielded her financials in a manner that had essentially paid for her career.

 _Cunning, Miss Waterhouse, I shall give you that…_

Though part of her admired the woman's stealth and foresight at having monopolized a niche that few in the Magical realm would have considered profitable, Dia was loathe to accept the witch's blatant laziness and imperialist attitude as it applied to her career - no matter what positive affirmations Minerva had heard from Madam Hesperia. She could only be pleased that the witch had only fulfilled her first classifications in Transfiguration, thus saving her from the obligation to protect the woman's academic honor.

If, in the course of her investigation of the witch's disappearance, the particulars of Waterhouse's activities happened to be leaked via an anonymous source… _well…_ the witch's legacy was not her problem.

A familiar thrum pulsed through her and Dia looked up from her array of parchments, immediately discerning that her apprentice had returned to the villa grounds. A wordless redirection of her attention quickly told her that Hermione was ascending the steps back to the villa, her mood floating between somewhere between contemplative and anxious.

Dia vacillated for a moment, debating whether or not to meet the young woman in the kitchen or to remain as she was until Hermione sought her out. _Better to remain… she has enough to consider without your interference._

There was a brief flash of guilt for how she had handed the young woman her ultimatum, but Dia took a steadying breath and quickly dissolved it. There was no use apologizing for measures that were non-negotiable in her eyes and it was better that she delivered the hard information to Hermione upfront. At this point Dia knew herself well enough to be honest about things she was willing to change... and her methods of collecting and processing information were not one of them.

She could only hope that Hermione would be willing to look towards the larger picture of both her career and the upcoming changes to the global climate to make her final decision.

* * *

 _Hermione,_

 _It was good to see you last night, if only for a short while. Gawain reckons that there will be a lot of work for us to do in the coming weeks, though it feels good to lend a hand even in the midst of our studies. We're hoping that you'll come back to pitch in, but a few of the "adults" have knocked some sense into us about that and I expect that nothing will be quite as easy as it was when we were younger._

 _From McG's words, I know you probably have a big decision to make in the coming weeks. Just know that whatever you decide, Ron and I are behind you 100%. You were always the smartest in the bunch. I trust you to make the choice that will be best for yourself._

 _I'll be honest that your silence hurts… I know it does Ron as well. Ginny says that you no longer have time for us and that you've left us behind, but I don't believe that's true. Whatever happened to you, Hermione… know that Ron and I still love you and we'll always be here for you whenever you're ready to return… whether that's soon or in a few more years._

 _Miss you lots as always and looking forward to hearing from you…_

 _Love,_  
 _Harry_

 _PS: Ron and I made a study schedule like you used to do for us and y'know what? It actually works! Still wish you were here to yell at us though… we tried to get Kreacher to take up that duty but he just bribes us with treacle tart instead._

Hermione blinked back tears even as she chuckled… trying to imagine Kreacher withholding dessert so that her boys would study… _Oh Harry._

Sunburnt and slightly windswept, she had discovered the letter waiting for her on the kitchen island upon re-entering the villa, and in her haste to shower and redress, Hermione had nearly missed seeing it. The familiar messy scrawl had immediately given away the sender, and though Hermione's first impulse had been to seek out Master Kallas, something in her gut had caught… and she had elected to sit down and read it instead.

Smiling again, Hermione skimmed over Harry's words, silently appreciative for her friend's unwavering devotion. It was more than reassuring to know that she hadn't completely lost his support, and she felt a lump arise in her throat as she realized how very much she had needed that simple affirmation.

Harry's honest words stung a little, but Hermione knew that she deserved it, and she felt slightly relieved by the fact that Harry had read into her silence… and had possibly perused his own memories for evidence of her elusive behavior.

Folding the parchment, Hermione pulled out the second letter and shook her head at the handwriting. It looked like one of Molly's chickens had picked up a quill.

 _'Mione,_

 _(It'll be worth it to receive your hexes if the nickname just made you roll your eyes for old time's sake, haha.)_

 _Like Harry said, I just wanted to write that we all support you in whatever you decide, Hermione - though it did take some convincing from Dad and Perce for us to understand that finishing your studies might be the best option for you right now. (Don't tell Perce I ever agreed with him)._

 _Ginny's being a right pain, but you know how her temper is… should you ever decide to come back for a visit you always have a place with us or at Kreacher's house. We'll knock some sense into her in the meantime._

 _Hope you're doing hard spells and reading too many books and inventing stuff that neither Harry or I can understand…_

 _Love you lots,_  
 _Ron_

Ron's shorter letter made her laugh out loud, likely as he intended. Hermione shook her head again with a fond smile as she reviewed both parchments, rising from her stool to lean one hip against the center island even as her thoughts drifted toward her friends from the previous night.

Hermione had been impressed with the two of them and how much they had grown since she had last seen them. Both of them had possessed the chiseled look of young men - their proper Academy robes hanging off their lanky figures with an easy sort of grace… Harry's hair still as thick and unmanageable as ever, and Ron boasting a scruffy sort of beard and mustache that had suited him well.

She had been additionally proud at witnessing how the two had conducted themselves at the Order meeting. Harry had been more quiet that she would have guessed though Hermione had been pleased to see that their mentor, Gawain Robards, clearly seemed to have taken the both of them under his wing. The older wizard had seemed just the right sort who could cut through all of Harry's guilt-ridden worries and self-imposed mantle of martyrdom to knock some sense into him. Ron had been surprisingly confident in delivering his ominous predictions of the future and Hermione had been thrilled to see him flexing his strategic skills in earnest.

Ginny was another matter and Hermione felt a stab of guilt for how little regard she had given to the witch who had once been one of her closest female friends. Hermione knew that there would be no way for her atone for her mistakes except in person, though it didn't seem like an opportunity was going to avail itself in the near future.

Sighing quietly, Hermione folded both parchments and tucked them back into their envelope, resolving to answer both as soon as she found a spare moment.

 _Well… at least you know your decision will be accepted._

With a wave Hermione banished the envelope to her room and paused, staring out the window absently where the sea looked just as blue as it had on Koufonisi.

Uncharacteristically, the familiar sight made her feel restless.

For once, Hermione didn't desire to look at the summer-y free-flowing Mediterranean, blooming flowers, nor scraggy rocks of Naxos.

While leaves had fallen from some of the trees around the island, the seasons weren't nearly as tangible as they were in Great Britain. Hermione suddenly longed for the fresh, earthy scents of autumn, the biting chill of the changing weather, and the brilliant changes in color that she remembered from home.

Autumn was a time for curling up in the library with a book, drinking spiced pumpkin cocoa in the mornings, and sipping warm butterbeers after brisk walks through Hogsmeade.

For a brief moment, Hermione was perplexed by the sudden shift in her mood… before she realized that she simply longed for a familiar environment in which to hold her conversation with Master Kallas. Sighing to herself, she pressed away from the kitchen island and began the journey to her rooms… wondering how to best address her many thoughts and concerns.

 _Master Kallas deserves your honesty… but you also need to clearly outline your own demands if this arrangement is going to work._

Brow furrowed, Hermione quickly floated through her rooms… preparing a few things in the space while her mind already conjured a list of non-negotiables that would hopefully be met by her master's understanding.

She showered quickly, dabbing aloe across her face and shoulders to counteract the rosy flush that they had gained after too much time spent in the sun. The skin across her stomach, back, and hamstrings already felt uncomfortably hot and tight and Hermione knew that she would have to seek out Master Kallas for extra burn paste as well.

Annoyed with herself, she elected to put on a single set of white under robes, wavering for a moment before deciding to go commando. The loose robes tied across her waist much like a bathrobe leaving a rather daring swath of skin exposed between her breasts. The fabric was a light cotton silk blend and Hermione cast a cooling-charm upon it, knowing that she would soon be too miserable to care whether or not her master saw her in such a state of undress.

Sighing, Hermione ran through her thoughts again as she pinned her curls into an artful pile on the crown of her head.

 _You must be clear regarding the points you will and will not compromise…_

Sniffing slightly, she realized that she had unconsciously borrowed a style that Master Kallas frequently affected - a simple twist and a waterfall of loose spirals. Somehow the involuntary choice made her smile and Hermione found she was pleased that style seemed to lengthen her neck and draw her features upward in a complementary way, making her appear slightly older and more mature.

Glancing over her reflection again, Hermione's thoughts faltered and she gently lifted her fingertips to trace one side of her robes… traveling across the shadowy curve of her collarbone… down between the valley in her breasts… and brushing the bare skin that disappeared into white folds just past the shadow of her upper abdominals.

 _There's also the matter of your mutual attraction…_

Biting one lip, Hermione stared at herself for a moment longer, wondering what would happen if she gave voice to some of her _other_ demands.

In the haste and turmoil of the past week, there had been little time to consider some of the other facets of her being that had also demanded their own creative research. The unexpected revelation about her mentor's sexual orientation seemed laughably distant in comparison to everything else that she had absorbed in the last several days.

Wrinkling her nose, Hermione realized that it had not quite been a week since she had learned that particular fact about Master Kallas… and since that time had already seen enough compelling evidence to suggest that the witch was more than amenable to her advances.

 _You're already planning to continue your studies… why should this development be any different?_

Rationally, Hermione knew that getting involved with one's master was far from simple… and that while Master Kallas had already voiced her attraction, events had shifted things into a realm far more complicated than either of them could have foreseen at the beginning of the week.

There was also the matter of her classification status.

Hermione hadn't been surprised to learn that her master had her own rules regarding additional developments in the course of her apprenticeships, but it also seemed as though Master Kallas was already willing to set her rules to one side. Hermione couldn't decide whether or not to be flattered to be an exception, or somewhat worried.

It would have been one thing to ask for the witch's help as she explored her own interests and desires against the backdrop of her apprenticeship, but now they were turning down a path that would undoubtedly force them into far more intimate territory than Hermione had originally anticipated. Would adding a physical dimension to their relationship push it over the edge?

 _You are asking for too much._

Shaking her head, Hermione turned from the mirror and quickly strode toward the window. She pressed it open and inhaled the scent of gardenias and salt water.

 _No one ever said that you had to fall in love with the witch…_

Still… a niggle of self-preservation resounded at the back of her mind and Hermione sighed, one hand sneaking into her robes and rubbing at the stinging skin beneath her breasts absently.

 _You should at least bring it up._

Yes. She would allow herself that Gryffindor-ish impulse for the simple nod to clarity. If she and Master Kallas were going to work as a united front, they needed to be on the same page regarding _all_ aspects of their relationship.

Lips twisting slightly, Hermione put her hands on her hips and surveyed her room before deciding there was nothing else to do. She had left the witch hanging long enough.

 _It's time to go find your Master._


	35. Chapter 35

_A/N: A few things happening at once..._

* * *

A knock on the door drew Pomona from her marking and she looked up, startled to see that the hour was quickly drawing close to five in the evening.

 _Helga's hippogriffs, you haven't moved in nearly three hours!_

Groaning, she shifted her parchments to one side even as she called "Enter!" already wondering who would be stopping by so late on a Saturday afternoon. The majority of the students would likely remain in Hogsmeade until close to sunset, and as far as she knew, most of her colleagues were home for the weekend.

Pomona was surprised when Hestia's bright face poked past the threshold, appearing distracted as she gazed down at something she was carrying in one hand.

"Ah, Hestia! What a pleasant interruption…. Come in, come in! Is there anything I can get for you?" she called, smiling broadly. It had been a number of weeks since the witch had stopped by for a visit.

Her smile faltered however when Hestia barely looked up from whatever it was she seemed to be holding in one arm. The witch drifted into her shared quarters with Filius, waving the door shut absently, a frown marring her otherwise pretty features.

"Forgive me for interrupting, Pomona… I wonder if Filius might be around?"

Pomona frowned, sitting back slightly. "Well, I'm sorry, dear… but Filius is on duty in Hogsmeade for the next few hours. Shall I let tell him to find you later this evening?"

At that Hestia finally looked at her, somewhat startled, blinking as if suddenly realizing where she was.

"Take a look at this, would you?"

The witch strode over and quickly took a seat next to Pomona's favorite armchair, sliding onto the chesterfield and pressing a parchment into her hands.

Pomona looked over it slowly, noting the tinge of yellow around the edges, the relative dryness of the document, and the smell of dust, mold, and the more subtle breath of stasis potions. Her eyes narrowed.

"I take it this was sent to you from Alexandria?" she asked quietly, noting how Hestia shifted and nodded.

"Last night I found the article Hermione mentioned in _Le Devin Quotidien_ ," she whispered. "It was little to go on - I'm impressed that she managed to connect the dots, actually."

Pomona chuckled.

"I made two separate Floo calls from independent locations outside of Hogwarts. I managed to extract a bit of useful information. It seems that whomever was responsible for the break-in focused their efforts in two distinct areas of the Library's Artifact Archives. The Middle Bronze dynasty of Ancient Egypt and the Archaic to Preclassic Periods of the Maya civilization. I elected to continue my investigation with Egypt for the moment… perhaps Septima and Talfryn can make additional inquiries in the coming week," Hestia explained, her small hands gesturing animatedly as she spoke.

"You have been busy, my dear. Did you get any sleep last night at all?" Pomona asked in bewilderment, looking at the witch next to her in surprise.

Hestia sniffed wryly and pointed to the parchment in Pomona's hands. It appeared to be a detailed inventory list.

"I pulled a few strings and was given this list of Egyptian artifacts currently withheld from public display at the Museum of Alexandria. These are all specifically from the time period that the intruder was researching. A majority of artifacts listed on this parchment are held in the storage vaults beneath the Library. All but twelve."

Hestia shifted and began ticking them off on her fingers.

"Eight are currently in Restorations, three are on tour in Austria with an exhibit at the Kunsthistoriches Museum, and one more is in New York. Only one remains outside the shared grasp of the Library and Museum entirely… having been returned to its original location for unknown reasons. The aide who helped me only has record of the artifact's intake and subsequent return, not quite five months after it was absorbed for processing. That was in 1923."

"I take it that your interest lies in the last artifact?" Pomona asked evenly, eyes slowly absorbing the list and the magical check marks Hestia had placed next to the artifacts of note. _She's thorough, I'll give her that._

"Indeed. I can find little beyond its record on this list and its having been added to the Archive's Banned Materials list."

That seemed to indicate that the mysterious object had been too unstable for storage or had not been vetted properly by Curse Breakers. Either way, that did not bode well.

"And there has been no further record of the object since its dismissal?" she asked. Hestia shook her head.

"I haven't researched anything further, but no... its intake and dismissal both happened in 1923."

"Who else have you confided in?" Pomona asked, her eyes still traveling over the parchment methodically.

"No one yet. I planned on discussing it with either Filius or Septima to see if they could run a few equations, but in my haste I forgot that he took Horace's shift in Hogsmeade this weekend. Septima won't be back until tomorrow evening," Hestia replied, watching her read with a concerned expression.

Pomona took another long moment to commit the list of items to memory, making a mental grid of the entire parchment and noting the text, the discolorations in the paper, and a few ink splatters with a practiced eye. Inhaling softly, her eyes narrowed and eventually she looked up.

"Good," she replied curtly, giving Hestia meaningful look. Re-rolling the parchment, she handed it back to to the witch who looked at her in surprise. Rising with a soft groan, Pomona flicked a hand toward the hearth in a well-practice manner and reignited the dwindling flames.

"Would you care for tea or coffee?" she asked quietly, turning to look back at Hestia who was watching her with a small frown. The witch shook her head.

"No, thank you," she replied, biting one lip. "What do you make of this?"

"One moment," Pomona replied gently, holding up a finger. The younger woman fidgeted impatiently but waited as Pomona called a House Elf and requested her customary blend of pumpkin spice tea and a small plate of shortbread biscuits. She plucked a throw from Filius' armchair and returned to her spot, folding the knitted blanket across her lap.

"Now then, Hestia," she said eventually, resettling in her armchair and taking a fortifying sip of tea. "You are going to repeat everything you learned about this matter between now and the meeting."

Predictably, Hestia's brows drew together in confusion and she shifted slightly, moving forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

"I don't see what that will tell you," she replied slowly. "I've summarized the significant points."

" _Everything_ ," Pomona repeated firmly. "I wish to know if my first instincts are an unwarranted mess of fanciful conjecture. When Filius returns we shall include him in this conversation."

"But Pomon-"

"Patience, Hestia," Pomona interrupted sharply. She softened a moment later, and sat forward.

"You asked me a question and I shall answer it in time, but first I need to know exactly what you've uncovered. Take me through your process from the end of last night's meeting through to this moment now. And tell me a bit more of your own impressions. What was the tone of your conversations? Were they pleasant? Were you able to read into the assistants who helped you?"

A curious little smile was playing at the corners of Hestia's lips and the witch seemed to be debating whether or not to swear or laugh.

"You're a tough cookie, Pomona," she said eventually.

Pomona sat back and took another sip of tea, her eyebrows rising bemusedly as she gazed into the fire.

"You have no idea."

* * *

Dia looked up as she felt Hermione's presence grow closer, waving a hand to send a charm so that the witch would know where to find her. Blinking sleepily, she ran a hand over her face, quickly organizing her parchments and ensuring that none had managed to fly away with the wind.

The beautiful day had proven warmer than she had anticipated and Dia had begun to doze after lunch when it had become clear that Hermione wasn't prepared to return for the midday meal. Squinting slightly, she saw that the sun had fallen from its zenith and was cutting a harsh glare across the sea below, straight into her eyes as she had stretched out on her stomach.

Dia shifted a pillow to her right to block some of the light and a moment later she couldn't help but smile as a tentative voice floated out upon the veranda.

"Master?"

"Out here, darling," Dia called, propping herself up on one elbow to watch the young woman approach. Hermione padded out from the shadows of her bedroom and Dia could tell from her body language that she was feeling insecure.

The witch seemed to hesitate on the threshold, her steps faltering just before stepping outside, and Dia's mood began to spiral, assured that the coming conversation would soon unfold into a dissolution agreement. However her thoughts shifted immediately to concern when Hermione emerged into the light.

"Hippolyta's sword, what happened to you?!" Dia exclaimed, rising quickly to meet her apprentice as she took a few small steps onto the sunlit veranda. "You look like a…"

"A lobster?" Hermione supplied helpfully, a sheepish expression on her face. _A lobster indeed._

Dia's lips drew together and she snapped her fingers impatiently, summoning a few items from her personal bath as she drew closer and took stock of her charge. Her fingers gently traced along Hermione's reddened cheek, noting the darkened flush of sunburn that spread down the woman's throat and into the deep-V of her robes that Dia studiously avoided for the moment.

"I suppose the weather has been rather cold…" she murmured, moving around to see Hermione's other side. It seemed the witch's legs were just starting to color as well. "No one expected the sun to be so strong today, though fortunately it seems we've caught you just in time. So long as we apply a few remedies now, you should be fine in a few hours."

"I'm sorry, Master," Hermione apologized unnecessarily. Dia merely lifted an eyebrow and opened her hands, accepting three bottles that contained her variations on burn paste, hydrating lotion, and a healing salve.

"Come, let's move inside," she said softly, gesturing toward her room.

"I can do it," Hermione said hurriedly, turning toward her with an anxious expression. "I'm… um… not wearing anything underneath this."

Dia quirked an eyebrow and simply pressed Hermione toward her bedroom. _Brits and their modesty..._

"Lay on the bed my dear, I will transfigure something for you," Dia replied evenly in a tone that brokered no room for argument.

Stepping into the cool shadows of her bedroom, she followed Hermione across the cool wood floor and absently waved a hand to open a few of the gauzy curtains. The golden light illuminated the quiet space with a sleepy sort of glow and she watched as Hermione settled on the edge of her bed, scooting back slightly and watching her with wary eyes.

"Lie back, darling," Dia repeated, quickly settling upon the bed and moving so that she could sit to Hermione's right side as she lay back against the white sheets silently.

A moment later, her apprentice gasped lightly as Dia transfigured her light robes into two thin strips of towel, leaving her with space to apply the necessary remedies.

She could clearly see the outline of the bikini Hermione had been wearing across her chest. The skin around it had taken on an angry red tinge and it looked like the witch had already begun scratching.

"Hold still, darling," Dia murmured. Deftly she mixed the burn paste in with the healing ointment, creating a rather fragrant blend of coconut, mint, aloe and a few more pungent herbs.

"This should relieve the immediate itching and discomfort," she said, smiling as Hermione's eyes squinched shut as she spread some of the combination across her face. "At least you managed to burn yourself relatively evenly. I daresay you'll have a lovely tan by tomorrow."

Hermione smiled softly as Dia's fingers gently began rubbing the thick substance across her cheeks and into her hairline.

"I forgot to cast a UV Charm," Hermione murmured quietly, already visibly relaxing as Dia's hands moved across her neck and shoulders in a soothing manner. "I suppose the glare from the water didn't help."

"It was an unexpectedly bright day," Dia agreed conversationally, ignoring the shivers as she spread the salve across Hermione's chest and taut stomach. She worked efficiently, and as she shifted to get better leverage, Dia faltered in her ministrations as the angle revealed a subtle silver gash running diagonally across her apprentice's body from just beneath her left clavicle to the outside of her lower right ribs.

It was a thin scar and almost invisible beneath the witch's reddened skin, but Dia recognized the jagged edges and silvery cast… startled by the violent implications and immediately angered that a wand had been raised against her apprentice. _I know that curse..._

"Antonin Dolohov," Hermione explained unnecessarily, her eyes staring up at the ceiling unseeingly. Dia noted the tightness around the full lips and the slightly angry set of the jaw. "At the end of my fifth-year. He hexed me when we broke into the Department of Mysteries."

Dia picked up the hydrating lotion and quickly resumed her care, encouraging Hermione to relax as she worked the substance across her shoulders and down her arms.

"We are almost matching then," Dia replied softly, trying to reassure her apprentice. "Though the scar he gave me is on my back and not quite as pretty as yours."

Hermione shifted beneath her and tilted her head, looking up at her with a strange combination of admiration and gratitude. _You are beautiful as you are, darling._ The words caught on the tip of her tongue and Dia smiled gently instead.

"You broke into the Department of Mysteries?" she asked curiously.

Hermione wrinkled her nose in response and Dia swiped a bit of hydrating lotion across it, eliciting a girlish giggle. A long hand rose to rub in the offending substance and Dia continued working the lotion along Hermione's ribs, careful not to focus on the silvery scar.

"Harry was given a false vision by Voldemort. We thought that he was holding Harry's godfather captive when it was really just a trap to lure us to the Ministry so that Voldemort could get his hands on Harry's prophecy."

Dia sighed and poured a bit more lotion on her hands before starting on the witch's other side. There were still a number of events of the last War that she was still learning from Hermione directly.

"The faults of Legilimency are many," she murmured quietly.

"Are you accomplished?" Hermione asked. Dia's hands faltered, wondering what would have prompted her apprentice to ask such a question. Unexpectedly, Hermione grasped her wrist and Dia turned to meet the imploring caramel gaze.

"I don't mean to be rude in asking… but, the other night Minerva told me you were Occluding. I just assumed that you would have studied Legilimency as well," Hermione said softly.

"The two Arts do go hand in hand, though most people have an affinity for one or the either," Dia replied after a moment, moving down to spread lotion across Hermione's toned legs. She briefly allowed herself a moment to appreciate the well-developed muscles.

"Arts?"

Dia sighed and worked her hands down the witch's right quad, smiling mischievously when Hermione unexpectedly flinched as her hands passed over her knee. It seemed the witch was ticklish. _Best remember that for later..._

"In Darker circles, both Legilimency and Occlumency are referred to as the Arts… for the simple fact that they are incredibly challenging skill-sets, demanding the right combination of precision, intuition, and ruthlessness in order to wield one's magic in an artful way to either extract the gossamer threads of another's thoughts or protect them from unwanted invasion."

Hermione shivered and Dia's eyes flicked back to the witch's face which was again focused on the ceiling.

"Sorry… you just reminded me of Professor Snape," Hermione murmured, surprising Dia with her perceptiveness.

"I suppose that's only fitting. I learned a great deal from Severus," Dia replied honestly.

At that Hermione sat up slightly, propping herself up on her elbows even as one thin towel threatened to slip. Dia paused and shifted around to Hermione's left side, keeping her gaze from the glistening planes of the witch's toned stomach.

"You studied with Severus?" she asked incredulously.

Dia smirked and moved slightly to press Hermione back into lying down. She tugged the towel back in place unnecessarily and drew close so that her face was closer to Hermione's.

"The other way around, my darling," she purred. Hermione's eyes widened and she shrank back slightly.

Chuckling, Dia moved back down and worked the last of the lotion down Hermione's left leg with sure strokes. Already the flushed skin seemed to be cooling.

"At least… in the beginning," she amended. "Severus was a third-year when I became Minerva's apprentice. By the time I began teaching, he was an upperclassman and our paths had no opportunity to cross in the realm of Transfiguration. However I once stepped in to substitute his sixth-year Potions class for two months when Horace came down with a rather severe case of spattergroit."

Dia sat back slightly and averted her eyes as she gestured for Hermione to flip, quickly charming one of the towels to cover her buttocks carefully.

As she turned back she saw that Hermione was looking at her with wide eyes, arms folded beneath her cheek as she waited for Dia to continue.

"We had our own understanding," she explained softly, shaking her head at the memory and scooped up a liberal amount of the first concoction. "A friendly rapport, if you will. Later, I discovered that Severus had a penchant for the Arts. When he was no longer a student at Hogwarts I asked for his assistance in learning them. He obliged."

"Wasn't he a Death Eater by then?" Hermione asked softly. Dia was surprised to note that there was no accusation in the witch's voice - only genuine curiosity. She sighed, working burn paste into Hermione's shoulders where the skin seemed to be the most affected.

"Severus and I had an understanding that had always extended beyond the conventional. I was one of the few adults that he listened to and respected, likely because I had always kept an eye out for Slytherin students… and in the brief period that I had worked with him, I encouraged him to pursue a Mastery in Potions," she replied, gaze faltering as she remembered.

"I asked for him after he had graduated and we met on strictly business terms. I knew nothing of his activities and he knew nothing of mine. He sought a bit of information regarding a few advanced potions. I sought information regarding the Arts."

Dia blinked quickly, surprised at how the memory still affected her after all this time.

She returned her attention to Hermione's skin, carefully spreading the healing concoction beneath the rounded curves of the witch's buttocks.

"It was an arrangement that lasted three weeks in the summer immediately following his graduation from Hogwarts. Only later did I learn he had taken the Mark a few days after," she said softly.

A brief glance to her right saw that Hermione was staring at her with an odd expression, as if she couldn't quite make up her mind what to think. For a moment they remained silent as she worked hydrating lotion down the long lines of Hermione's legs in sure strokes.

"I do not expect you to understand. Many did not, including Minerva," Dia said softly.

"It's not that…" Hermione whispered, shifting back so that her chin rested upon folded arms. "I suppose I was just wondering how different our lives would have been had Prof - Severus actually invested in your friendship. I can only imagine how hard it was for you to hear that he had joined the Death Eaters, but I suppose if he hadn't… the second War may very well have been lost."

Dia's eyebrows rose at that, surprised and slightly touched by her apprentice's empathy and insight. She found herself at an uncharacteristic loss of words.

In her mind, Severus Snape would always be a thin, malnourished young boy from the Midlands, with inborn talent that she would always envy and a stubborn streak that would forever try her patience. She had gone out of her way to earn and keep the boy's trust but in the end, there had been little to show for her efforts.

Albus' words rang in the back of her mind and Dia shoved them away, loathe to spend more of her mental energy on the man who so easily betrayed those he found disposable.

"So which is your affinity?" Hermione asked.

It took a moment for Dia to understand that her apprentice was again referencing the Arts. She vacillated for a moment whether or not to divulge that information… in the wrong hands, it could lose her an advantage.

"If you're debating whether or not to tell me… I suppose that I should tell you something first."

Dia blinked and sat back slightly as Hermione rolled carefully so that she was lying on her left side, looking up at Dia with a solemn expression.

She fought to keep her own expression neutral, surreptitiously waving her fingers so that the towels grew and knitted themselves into a light set of robes that Hermione could wrap across her body. Her apprentice blinked in surprise, her skin glistening as she pressed herself up to sit on one hip, her legs draping elegantly across the white comforter.

"Dia?"

Hermione's eyes seemed impossibly large and Dia found herself leaning away from the young woman's close proximity, unnerved at how quickly the witch had unsettled her.

"Yes, Hermione?"

Amber eyes flicked across her face for a moment before her jaw seemed to set in determination.

"I've decided to stay," she said softly. The words didn't quite register and Dia blinked.

"I've decided that I can do more to help the Order at your side than I can on my own, and that… if you'll have me, I'd like to continue with our contract as planned. Depending on how the future unfolds, I still wish to stay through my third classifications and re-evaluate our arrangement then."

"Yes," Dia breathed, feeling uncharacteristically off-balance. Hermione gave her a shy smile and rearranged herself slightly, shifting so that she could sit cross-legged on the bed. The more familiar pose seemed to jar Dia from her haze and she cleared her throat and moved back slightly.

"Of course, Hermione," she amended, feeling a warm tendril of pleasure twine through their bond. "It would be an honor to continue working with you."

Hermione bit a lip and folded her hands in her lap and Dia hid a smile. _Of course there is more to her decision…_

"Thank you, Master," she murmured. A stray curl fell across Hermione's forehead and Dia briefly wondered if the young woman recognized how lovely she appeared wearing Dia's own informal hairstyle.

"I had planned on coming in here and telling you in a bit more formal manner, but it seems that plan has disappeared along with my clothes."

Hermione's lips curved into a soft smile and Dia felt her own curl upwards in answer. _Merlin, she wants to stay…_

She kept her pleasure buried and waited as the witch straightened slightly, squaring her shoulders and meeting her in a confident gaze.

"I apologize if I gave you the impression that your… conditions somehow made you feel as though I don't trust you," Hermione said, her brow furrowing lightly.

"At first, I think that I assumed too many things about why you would ask for such a thing. It also took me time to realize that we are very different people and that it is only prudent for you to protect the both of us through the means that are most familiar to you. Now that I've had a chance to consider your proposal, I think it is very wise on your part… I am still young and impulsive at times. I need to learn to defer to your experience and I am sure it will be a challenge for both of us."

Dia listened, impressed at how thoroughly Hermione had considered her words from the night previous and had divined a good amount of her reasoning. Their bond told her that the witch was speaking honestly, and Dia experienced a brief surge of disbelief at realizing how lucky she was to have accepted Hermione's apprenticeship application, nearly at random. _You receive as much from her as she does you…_

Smiling absently, Dia felt the witch's emotions shift slightly - swirling together in a manner that indicated Hermione was coming to some sort of decision.

"However, I think for the both of us to be satisfied with my decision… we need to agree on the conditions with greater specificity," Hermione said firmly, watching as Dia tilted her head thoughtfully.

"I appreciate your willingness to join the Order on my behalf, as it were, and I am more than happy to continue to defer to your experience as we move forward together, but I will also not have my own autonomy barred on account of our agreement."

 _If you needed any evidence to prove that she is learning from you, she has just presented it._

"What did you have in mind?" Dia asked carefully, curious to see what the witch would say.

She was not opposed to refining their arrangement. On the contrary - it would likely help them both. But Dia also knew that Hermione was treading a very challenging line between old alliances and new ones. Her provisions would help clarify where her difficulties lay, if any… and whether Dia needed to anticipate any difficulties in their partnership.

"I asked myself whether or not I would trust you if you ordered me to withhold information from the Order," Hermione began softly, her eyes still trained on Dia's face.

"I decided that I could. Even if you didn't provide me with an explanation as to why."

Dia listened, allowing herself to absorb her apprentice's words alongside the firm spiral of conviction she felt through their bond. Hermione genuinely believed what she was saying and Dia was rather touched.

She had already considered such circumstances and had already decided that she would be more than willing to keep her apprentice informed as they progressed. _I simply cannot promise that she will like every answer…_

"Then I asked myself whether not I could trust you if you ordered me to withhold information from the Order if I knew that it would result in someone's death," Hermione said quietly. Dia's eyes widened.

"And I decided that I could… however I have to ask that you will allow me to share in the weight of that burden." Hermione's eyes flashed and her expression grew hard.

"I don't ever want you to keep consequences to yourself because you think it will ease my conscience. I want to know _exactly_ what our actions will provoke and I also want to know the _instant_ that your intelligence will suggest any sort of shift that could result in significant injury or loss of life - whether on our side, the opposite, or somewhere in between… never keep something from me of that magnitude because of the ease of logistics. I _will_ find out."

Dia nodded her understanding silently, taken aback by the force of Hermione's words and that the witch had already considered so many instances and exceptions to the demand. She was also somewhat shocked that her apprentice would so easily assume her ruthlessness… _but then again, is she wrong?_

An even deeper thought found her wondering whether or not it would be possible to get around Hermione's stipulations. _Though if she wants honesty, who are you to protect her from the harshness of it?_

"I understand," Dia replied eventually, her voice quiet. "I can agree to that."

It seemed that they were already building their contract.

Hermione's steely expression did not soften and Dia resettled, preparing herself for more.

"We shall be separated for any operation that could result in either my death or yours."

"Hermione…" Dia began, her voice dangerously low.

"No, Dia," Hermione interrupted firmly, holding up a hand. "I know what I am asking and we both know why I am asking it."

"Who shall judge such circumstances?" Dia asked quietly, willing her voice to remain free of the anger she felt.

"Minerva," Hermione answered immediately. "If you feel she cannot be impartial, it shall be voted on by two additional members of the Order. Of _your_ choice."

Dia allowed herself a glare, both annoyed and pleased when Hermione didn't flinch.

"And if the operation would be best served by our shared talents?"

"Then we shall serve together. I speak of instances in which our talents may serve different goals that need to be accomplished simultaneously."

Dia sat back and mulled over that, briefly wondering what imagined scenario had compelled Hermione to ask for such a demand. Her mind shuttled ahead, quickly extrapolating how she could bend that condition to protect her apprentice if necessary. _It can be done._

"Very well," she replied reluctantly. Hermione simply tilted her chin slightly and something in the set of her jaw made Dia steel herself for another difficult request.

"I ask that when we renew our Oath after my first classifications, you will do me the honor of allowing us to bond formally."

"Pósa kilá malákas eísé!"

Hermione's eyebrows rose up toward her hairline even as Dia flushed - simultaneously infuriated by the witch's demand and embarrassed that her mouth had gotten away from her. She raked both hands through her hair even as her mind raced to work around Hermione's request… _Why, Hermione?!_

Shifting smoothly, Dia rose and paced over to the windows, her face contorting in anger as she worked to rein in her thoughts and fears.

"You do not know what you ask, Hermione," Dia hissed, whirling to face the witch who sat calmly on her bed. _So young… so full of life… she doesn't deserve..._

"Dia… please…"

The quiet plea cut through her emotions and Dia deflated somewhat, already knowing that _yes…_ her deliciously intelligent apprentice _did_ understand what she was asking. Dia glared again, halfheartedly hoping to scare the young woman into withdrawing her request, but to her dismay, Hermione returned her harsh gaze with a fond smile.

 _Sweet Circe, she's **smiling** at you._

"Hermione," Dia said weakly, floating back to the bed as her hands gestured helplessly. "I cannot allow it… it would be negligent… I would -"

"Master."

Hermione's hand on her wrist forestalled the rest of her weak arguments and Dia lifted her gaze, feeling an uncomfortable lump of emotion rise in the back of her throat as the bed rocked slightly, pressing forward against her thighs.

"You would do me a great honor," Hermione whispered gently. The expression on her face was so earnest and hopeful that Dia found herself drawing back, averting her eyes even as they filled with tears. _This is likely how Minerva felt when you asked her for the same privilege..._

To formally bond would twine their magic.

Doubtless, the witch was primarily using it as a fail-safe measure to ensure their mutual protection… but beneath it, Dia's intuition suggested that Hermione's reasons were far more personal.

The bond she currently shared with Hermione was a variation on a more provisional arrangement; the ability to sense one another's emotional states helped facilitate an exchange of information, and an additional condition worked as a locator beacon if Hermione were ever threatened directly, immediately allowing Dia to Apparate to her location and render aid.

Formal bonds were a much deeper commitment… combining intimacy and deadly seriousness into one package. Blood magic would tie their lives together until it was mutually dissolved - or death intervened. If Hermione were injured, Dia's magic would act upon its own volition to save her and vice versa. However if one person died, so too would the other.

 _I cannot abide such an arrangement._

"If I do not agree?" Dia asked softly. Despite her efforts, her voice was constricted with emotion and Hermione watched her quietly.

"You would dismiss me?" Hermione asked in response. Dia closed her eyes and sat upon the edge of the bed, no longer able to look at the witch.

"Do not presume to know my intentions, Hermione. This thing you ask is no small matter," she replied coldly.

"Forgive me if being preoccupied with your welfare is a concern above my station!"

"You tread dangerous ground, Apprentice," Dia growled, barely catching Hermione's movement out of her peripheral vision. Her fingers gripped the edge of the bed in anger and she exhaled slowly, willing herself to dispel the surge of emotion that had risen as she realized how easily the witch had backed her into a corner.

She heard Hermione grow still.

"Master Kallas, you will do me this honor or our contract will be dissolved," Hermione said quietly. "I have weighed the consequences of my actions and I have chosen to put my faith in your abilities and I earnestly believed your trust in my own. If I presumed in error, let us correct it."

A small part of Dia was impressed for how the young witch was handling her, though the larger part of her was twisting in pain and anger for what she was being asked.

She could not very well send Hermione home to Great Britain alone. It would dishonor her without reason and while Dia knew that Minerva would be there to pick up the pieces, it would mar them both. Additionally, she knew that her former mentor had far too much on her plate already. Hermione would suffer as a result of Minerva's split attentions and her abilities would not be nurtured.

 _She played you like a lyre…  
_

Dia sighed quietly and let her shoulders slump, giving into the weighty feeling of defeat that pooled through her. She felt frozen, already terrified beyond measure at the thought of Hermione's life thrown into jeopardy because of her own actions not yet made… her emotions began to spiral downward and Dia quickly closed her eyes, mind already working to shield Hermione from the onslaught of her inner turmoil.

"Stop it!"

The bed swung slightly and Dia caught herself on one elbow as Hermione forcibly knocked her to one side and drew close, her face pressing into Dia's field of vision as she poked one forceful finger against Dia's sternum.

"Diamantina Kallas, don't think for a second that I can't see what's happening behind your stupid Occlumency shields!"

Dia blinked, pulling back automatically even as her body stopped itself from flipping Hermione over and pinning her. _What even-_

Caramel eyes flashed as Hermione glared down at her.

" _Nothing_ is going to happen to me because _nothing_ is going to happen to you! Do you understand me?"

Dia blinked again uncomprehendingly.

" _Do you understand me?_ " Hermione hissed and Dia found herself nodding mutely.

The witch sat back, clutching white robes between her breasts firmly, her eyebrows still drawn together in anger even as Dia rolled slightly so that she was facing Hermione on her stomach, still trying to figure out how she had been so completely blindsided by her apprentice's fierce streak of protectiveness that suddenly blossomed across their bond.

 _When did she begin to feel so strongly for you?_

"I am asking for this condition because despite your stupid slithering notions of nobility and honor, I refuse to let you be a martyr for any reason, all right?" Hermione's voice had lowered itself by a few decibels, though Dia was struck at how thoroughly she felt as though she were being lectured.

"All this means is that I have to be good. I have to be _really_ fucking good! I have to study well! I have to spy well! And I have to fight well! And you know what?! I'm _good_ at learning, Dia! I'm really good, _okay?"_

"Hermione…"

"Shut up, I'm not done!"

Dia pressed her lips together and waited, willing herself not to flinch as Hermione brandished a pillow at her and began punctuating her words by punching it with a small fist.

"And you listen to me, Diamantina Kallas. You are the _best_ \- _goddamn - mentor_ I have ever had - _yes,_ ** _ever_** \- and I know without the shadow of a doubt that you are my best hope at getting through this next war alive and intact and _by Godric's sword - you - are - going - to - get - through - it - with - me! Do you understand?!_ "

"Hermione…"

" ** _Do you?!_** "

"I understand!" Dia snapped, losing her patience and grabbing the pillow from her apprentice's hands and shoving it to one side as she moved herself closer. "Hermione!"

"What?!"

The witch's chest was heaving and Dia could see the heat of her anger spreading across it like an angry rash. Hermione's curls had come loose from their twist and were spilled across glowing shoulders giving her an added aura of uncontrolled power. There was no trace of the brilliant but slightly insecure young woman who had shown up on the steps of the villa looking eager and nervous.

A powerful witch had replaced her... and she was an entirely new force made of sinew, muscle, and steel.

 _She is marvelous..._

Unwillingly, Dia felt her heart soften.

Caramel eyes were still glaring daggers at her and Dia took a deep breath and propped herself up on one arm, extending other in an invitation.

"Come here," she commanded gently.

Hermione's eyes flicked over her for a long moment, appearing to weigh Dia's sincerity.

Abruptly, the expression crumpled slightly and Hermione launched herself forward, nearly knocking Dia's breath from her lungs as she pressed herself into the waiting embrace, the two of them falling into an ungainly tangle of limbs as the bed swung softly.

"I accept your conditions," Dia murmured quietly, pressing soft kisses into the mane of curls even as she felt Hermione tremble and begin to shake quietly in her arms.

"You infuriate me, but I accept them. And you do _me_ a great honor, Hermione. I shall never understand your reasoning, but I know when to accept defeat gracefully…"

Their bond suddenly thrummed into place and Dia smiled, feeling hot breath spread across her chest even as the telltale trickle of tears began sliding gently between her breasts. Her brow creased. "Don't cry, my darling…"

The witch gasped quietly in her arms and Dia pulled her closer, rubbing reassuring circles on warm skin that she had so recently tended. Their mutual ire somewhat spent, a new sort of energy flooded through the both of them, warming them from the inside and tinging their shared connection with a new depth of color that hadn't been there before.

"Thank you, Dia."

They lay there together for a long moment and it took all of Dia's strength to keep her own tears at bay as she made her own solemn promise.

 _By Hippolyta's Line and all the powers between this world and next - **you cannot fail her.**_

* * *

 _A/N: Translations  
_

 _Pósa kilá malákas eísé!_ \- rude statement, in this context basically meaning "why are you doing this?"  
lit. how many kilos of asshole is this


	36. Chapter 36

_A/N: A few more developments... a few more complications... a bit of building. I freely admit that I am taking creative liberties with bits of ancient history. I always welcome critiques and feedback. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

Her bed was a disaster and Dia bit back a chuckle at imagining what Eleni would do to the both of them if she were to see it in such a state of disarray.

They had not moved nor spoken since Hermione had relayed her conditions for rejoining the Order. As much as their new arrangement pained her, Dia attempted to keep her darker thoughts at bay until she could unfold them in private. For now, she was happy to know that her apprentice wished to continue her studies. They were currently lying in the center of her bed, Hermione curled against her in a way that was entirely new and decidedly pleasant. A mass of curls was resting comfortably on her chest.

From the angle of the light Dia guessed that it was drawing close to six in the evening and distantly she felt a pressure to get them up and moving. There were a number of things that they both needed to attend to following their conversation, however… she couldn't quite bring herself to break the moment.

Fortunately, her apprentice chose that moment to shift and Dia tilted her chin down, blowing a stray curl out of her mouth, surprised when Hermione spoke first.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you."

The muffled words were pressed into her chest and Dia bit her lip, trying to ignore how the soft lips felt fluttering against her bare skin. Hermione shifted again and she felt a warm hand squeeze her shoulder.

"Do not be sorry for speaking your truth," Dia replied softly, allowing her focus to fall back and stare straight up at the ceiling. _No matter how hard it is for me to accept..._

"Are you upset?"

Dia paused, mouth working as she bit back a few choice swear words that threatened to break through at the innocent question. _Not with you, darling..._

"No, Hermione. I am not," she sighed, stroking a hand reassuringly along Hermione's back.

Her answer seemed to appease the witch's curiosity for the moment and they returned to silence, though Dia could practically hear the gentle chiming of Hermione's thoughts as her mind began to flutter again in earnest.

"Master?"

"You don't wish to address me by name?" Dia asked softly. _She commanded it rather well not too long ago..._

Abruptly Hermione twisted and propped herself up on both elbows on either side of her ribcage, nose wrinkling as she gazed down at Dia with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry for that," she whispered. Dia's lips quirked and she ran a light finger across the witch's nose, smoothing out the wrinkles.

"Don't be," she replied softly. Hermione's lips moved slightly and Dia waited, feeling that her apprentice was both nervous and embarrassed.

"Say what it is you wish to say," Dia encouraged, lifting her head to slide her hand underneath and prop herself upwards. It brought their faces slightly closer.

"I didn't finish telling you all of my conditions," Hermione said softly.

"Oh?" Dia infused a little bit of playfulness into the sound, trying to indicate that she was still willing to listen.

 _Sweet Circe, I don't think there's anything worse that she can layer in..._

Hermione flopped to one side, lying on her back so that her head was close to Dia's on a different angle. She could just make out the witch's profile as Hermione stared up to the ceiling, her fingertips playing with the open collar of her robes.

"The last condition is not a condition as much as it is a request…"

Dia set aside the information she was absorbing through their bond, unable to discern much more than anxiety, indecision, and a thread of hope. Whatever this last request, it was something personal.

Rolling onto her side, Dia stretched her legs out… raising an eyebrow as she realized her feet were resting against a pillow and that both of their heads were resting closer toward the opposite end of the bed. _How very indecorous._

She propped her head up with her hand and looked at the witch next to her, absently noting how lovely she looked in the golden shadows of the dying sun.

"Do you promise not to laugh?"

Dia frowned slightly, wondering what could have possibly elicited such a childlike question. She reached out and put a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Nothing you request could make me laugh, Hermione," she replied softly, rubbing a thumb against the warm skin.

Unexpectedly, the witch reached up and captured her hand, twisting slightly as she rolled back to face Dia, curling in on herself slightly and letting the soft robes relax from where she had been holding them closed. The white silk draped between her breasts, offering the barest glimpse of the soft skin beneath.

"I want you to teach me about this…" Hermione kissed her wrist softly and Dia grew still, watching as long fingers opened her hand and pressed another kiss to the center of her palm.

A warm pulse licked her body and somehow Dia was unable to look away as Hermione's light hands began caressing her fingers, mixing cocoa and honey in an entirely new way that felt rather thrilling and dangerous.

"Hermione…"

Dia felt her lips part involuntarily as Hermione drew her fingers back toward her mouth, kissing each tip carefully before enveloping her index finger in warm, wet heat that caused her to inhale in an embarrassingly sharp manner. _Gods above, witch!_

Dia freed her hand and pressed the palm to Hermione's sternum, holding it there for a moment as she took a steadying breath, trying to recapture a bit of objectivity to hold the second unexpected discussion that suddenly needed to unfold.

 _Sweet Circe… could this woman be any more unpredictable?!_

Hermione was watching her with an uncertain gaze and Dia let her fingers move upward to cup one rosy cheek, stroking it reassuringly as she smiled.

"You honor me with such an earnest request, darling," she murmured, her voice far huskier than she had intended and Hermione's face brightened hopefully when she realized that Dia was not rejecting her.

Dia wet her lips and took another breath, already certain that she was taking on more than she currently understood.

A large part of her mind was still reeling with the impending changes to their relationship that would occur in a scant matter of weeks… and the inherent difficulties that would arise immediately after.

Another part of her was stunned at how quickly her body had responded to Hermione's advances, and Dia knew that she would have to shut that part down if she were going to consider the ramifications of Hermione's request with any sense of propriety.

 _For Hippolyta's sake, you are no longer a hormonal little witchling! She needs your_ _ **guidance**_ _, not your wanton cravings!_

That prompted an idea that she could live with.

"I am not opposed to adding such a dimension to our relationship, however you must realize that adding in the physical can be challenging element indeed," Dia said eventually, withdrawing her hand from Hermione's grasp and letting it fall upon the white sheets between them.

 _And of course you couldn't be holding this conversation in the kitchen or your office! She had to wait until she was in your bed!_

Caramel eyes gazed at her quietly and Dia watched a wave of insecurity flash through them. She sighed softly.

"May I ask a question?" Dia asked, deciding to begin with the basics. That seemed to rouse her apprentice and Hermione nodded, propping herself up on one elbow to mirror Dia's own position.

"Of course," she replied, eyes growing curious.

"Have you ever had sex, Hermione?"

Unexpectedly the witch chuckled and Dia was surprised when she didn't blush.

"If you can call it that," Hermione replied dryly. "With Ron… after the War. It wasn't terrible but… I think I just wanted to get it over with and I assumed I would like it when it happened. We tried a few times. He liked it. I didn't."

"And you believe that being with a woman would change the experience for you?" she asked curiously.

Hermione's eyes visibly darkened and Dia felt her breath catch as the witch's gaze raked over her own body.

"I do." Came the succinct reply a moment later.

Dia felt her jaw work for a moment as she struggled with the parameters of the idea that had sprung forth. _It will work… for awhile. But you will have to redefine things later or you shall both regret it._

"All right."

Hermione's eyebrows lifted and a slow smile began to spread over her face before Dia pressed a finger to her sternum.

" _But_ … similar to your conditions with our joining of the Order, I think there are a few things we must agree upon before we shift the arrangement to our relationship. Sex is complicated, Hermione… and our relationship is already going to meet plenty of challenges as we lift our connection to a higher level."

"Yes, I'd thought about that," Hermione replied softly, her brows furrowing as she looked at Dia pensively. "What did you have in mind?"

"May I assume you have never been with a woman in any sense at at all?"

"You may."

Dia nodded, unperturbed by that fact. _It may prove advantageous._

"Then I wonder if you would permit us to begin in a manner similar to our current arrangement."

She pressed herself up to sitting, continuing to rest on one hip as she ran a hand through her curls. The other hand propped her up in an informal manner as Dia fell into her new role with ease.

"Long ago, the roles of master and apprentice were _intended_ to overlap in a physical manner, much as you desire now. The Wizarding world has always taken a liberal view of human sexuality; only the influence of religion and Muggles have tempered it through time, and as it does with many traditions, the concept has since fallen out of vogue. It was once that masters would… _instruct_ their apprentices toward developing a well-rounded appreciation and grasp of sex. Curricula were highly guarded and sought after, and for many, the balance between discipline-related knowledge and the physical was nearly equal."

Hermione's chin lifted and Dia could tell that the witch was curious by the new information. She rolled back slightly to look up at her more directly.

"Curricula?"

Dia smiled softly, reaching out a gentle hand to caress the witch's hip.

"In our world, sex was once held to the standard of an art, Hermione. Again, through outside influence and admittedly far too much inbreeding amongst Purebloods, that perspective was forced to shift… but, there are still those of us who still treat it with the open deference and interest that it once possessed in the ancient days."

"I take it you have done your own… _thorough_ research?" Hermione asked softly, her voice rather low. Arousal had begun to limn their bond and Dia smiled slowly, interested by her apprentice's latent curiosity.

In actuality, she wasn't entirely surprised by Hermione's newfound interest. The witch had been insatiable as she had explored her own training, the complementary asides to their disciplines, reconnecting to nature, and the myriad of other non-traditional measures that Dia had included alongside her formal curricula. In Dia's own eyes, sex was merely another way to understand one's own connection to the physical world… albeit with more spiritual and emotional underpinnings if one so wished.

It seemed, perhaps, that Hermione was similarly intentioned.

"Indeed," Dia purred, tilting her head to one side as she continued to lecture. "There are many facets to sex beyond actions exchanged between two bodies, darling."

She leaned forward, slowly trailing a dark fingertip along the witch's hip.

"First of all, there is _anticipation_ … the delicious quickening of energy that ignites the senses and heightens tension to truly exquisite levels, causing the resulting moments of satisfaction to resonate with even greater clarity."

She reached the bare skin of Hermione's leg and Dia spread her fingers gently, skimming the warm skin as she continued, deliberately pitching her voice to play into her accent… letting the words unfold with silky precision.

"That of course leads into the more subtle blends of foreplay and signaling… the heady connection one forges with one's partner… or partners, to develop events and turn them toward the myriad of options that one can explore alongside another's body."

Dia wet her lips, eyes closing somewhat as she brushed her fingers along the curve of Hermione's knee before dragging them back upward…

"Sex itself is a joining," she whispered. "A blending of magics alongside a rolling dance of ever-changing qualities and dynamics… it winds together sensation and passion, pulling personal preference, improvisation, and curiosity into an exquisite journey that one can experience in a breathless rush of energy… or _carefully_ , over untold hours, until surely… one believes there is nothing beyond such beautiful agony."

Her fingers had stopped short of dipping below the hem of Hermione's robes, caressing the soft skin of the witch's outer thigh where the fabric had ridden up considerably. The warm body beneath her hand shuddered and Dia's nostrils flared slightly, detecting the warm musk of the witch's arousal.

Dia's eyes flicked upward to find Hermione watching her hand attentively while bright white teeth worried her bottom lip. The witch's flushed face and shallow breathing betrayed her excitement, painting an instant smirk upon Dia's lips. Long lashes fluttered as Hermione finally noticed her attention, blushing sweetly as Dia withdrew her hand.

Satisfied that she had made her point, Dia sat back and folded her hands across her thigh demurely. _Surely you knew what you were asking me, little witch?_

"I want what you offer," Hermione said quietly, her gaze firm. "I want you to teach me… and I want you."

Dia pressed her thighs together, ignoring the wave of heat that flooded her center at her apprentice's forward words. She should have anticipated that Hermione's forthright nature would assert itself. _Gods above._

"I think it best to wait until after you submit your theses, darling. The redrawing of our contract will also complicate matters further," she demurred quickly, offering a small smile.

Hermione's focus had shifted to Dia's bare legs. Her dark skin was visible from the knee down where the white fabric had slid to one side. The witch reached out and pressed a warm hand to her shin.

"How do you mean?" she purred.

"Hermione, a formal bond is much more intimate than what we share now," Dia said seriously, trying to ignore the small circles that were beginning to move higher. She flushed with heat and Dia couldn't ever remember having had an apprentice that had embraced her body so quickly… and with such blatant curiosity.

"I know that," Hermione said impatiently, nudging at the hem of Dia's robes.

"What we have will… deepen," Dia tried, pressing her own hand against Hermione's wrist to stop the distracting movements. "It will be a challenging time for both of us to… renegotiate the difficulties of added information. It is half the reason I began learning Occlumency to begin with."

Finally, a quizzical quirking of elegant brows.

"Then you've been formally bonded?"

Dia nodded and sat back. "Once."

"To Minerva?" Hermione quickly deduced, her eyes widening.

"Yes," she replied succinctly, her expression closing the matter. "It is a private experience."

Hermione's expression shifted and she sat up slowly, a small pucker marring the space between her brows.

"I am not sorry for demanding this condition, Master," Hermione murmured, the soft tone of voice betraying her firm words. _Oh, my darling… you are too good for me._

Dia reached forward and smoothed an errant curl behind the shell of one ear.

"Dia," she amended, noting how the witch turned into her touch unconsciously. Distantly, she was pleased to see that the sunburnt skin had shifted to a light shade of rose. A dusting of freckles crossed the witch's nose.

"What?"

"It is clear to me that you understand the formal parameters of our relationship," Dia murmured. "If we are to proceed together in a manner that will work for the both of us, it is time you begin learning the more nebulous realm of the _informal_."

A smile began to curl upwards upon Hermione's lips and she looked at Dia curiously, a searching expression on her face.

"Is that what you prefer? Dia? Or Diamantina?" she asked quietly. The thoughtful clarification surprised her.

"I trust you to navigate what will work for you," Dia replied softly.

Reaching down, she drew Hermione's hand to her mouth and pressed a gentle kiss against the thin knuckles.

"Come, darling. That is enough discussion for one day."

Their bond thrummed peaceably and for the first time since the beginning of the week, Dia felt reassured that they were going to be all right.

* * *

Pomona sat back and folded one hand across her lap, brow furrowed as the other stroked her chin thoughtfully.

Filius had yet to return from Hogsmeade even as the sky began to darken and the clock struck half past five. Hestia had walked her through the particulars of her research into the artifacts preserved in Alexandria and the more she had absorbed, the more Pomona was convinced her suspicions could be no coincidence.

Sighing heavily, she stirred a new cup of spiced tea and glanced at the parchment that had remained curled at the younger professor's side.

"Eighty-five of the artifacts on that list would fall under Class-B restricted materials by current Ministry standards including eight of the twelve exceptions you mentioned. An additional four items would be considered _Class-A_ Dark Arts and predictably, that includes the mystery artifact," Pomona declared, sitting back and setting her spoon on its saucer.

"Do you have eidetic memory?" Hestia asked incredulously. The younger witch was staring at her with a combination of shock and appreciation. Pomona sniffed and shook her head.

"No. Rather a well-disciplined way of breaking down visual information," she replied evenly. Hestia seemed to mull over that with admiration.

"Now then, Hestia," Pomona said eventually, resettling in her armchair and taking a fortifying sip of tea. "Thank you for indulging me with your retelling of events. You betray your Auror talents with finesse and I daresay there is little to learn from your actual interactions with the Library staff beyond the fact they can be counted on to know the Archive materials to a tee. Now tell me, what do you know of the Pyramid Texts?"

Hestia sat forward slightly, her dark brown hair falling over one shoulder as she rested her elbows on her knees.

"I vaguely remember reading about them in the Academy. They're the oldest collection of religious spells recorded in Ancient Egypt," she replied, clearly a bit skeptical as to why Pomona was bringing them up.

"Indeed. Eventually they evolved and were later recorded as the Book of the Dead," she replied, taking a bite of shortbread.

"And you believe they somehow connect with this list of artifacts?"

Pomona sighed, realizing the younger witch was impatient to hear her hypothesis. _This is when I appreciate Neville's patience..._

"The Pyramid Texts begin with inscriptions found at the Pyramid of Unas at Saqqara. Many remember Unas to have been a peaceable ruler in the ancient world. Wizarding lore tells us that he was a wise man with a relatively long rule and he was responsible for allowing the oldest Mages of the day to record their spellwork in stone. Many believe that Unas' advisors were some of the first Necromancers," Pomona explained.

Hestia's eyes had grown wide and Pomona was pleased to see that she was listening attentively. _Nothing like Necromancy to shut down a conversation..._

"The Unas Pyramid marked the end of a dynasty and the beginning of a tumultuous new chapter in Ancient Egypt. Focus began to shift the overwhelming attention of the Sun god, Ra, to the God of the Dead, Osiris. There are over seven hundred recorded spells at several locations comprising the Pyramid Texts, and Arithmancers have spent hundreds of years debating whether or not the spellwork was recorded for posterity, or as a complex system to unlock ancient magic between the nine Pyramids whose walls contain the inscriptions."

Pomona let her gaze drift over the fire, distantly considering some of the alternative theories and whether or not to share them with Hestia. _Not enough evidence. Let us continue with what we have gathered._

"The texts are notable for many reasons," Pomona continued, sipping her tea quietly. "One of many being that they are thought to be the first recorded instance of an important funerary ritual called the _Opening of the Mouth and Eyes_. An old ritual to be sure, with references going back several more dynasties."

Hestia shifted as if to interrupt and Pomona gave her a sharp look indicating that she was not finished.

The witch bit her lip and had the grace to look mollified. _Gryffindors._

"Now, Muggles believe that the ceremony was an act to prepare or re-animate a person's soul in preparation for the afterlife. The soul would then be able to breathe, eat, see, speak, and continue the journey to the Underworld, while the person's physical body would also be released to search for the soul and reconnect as one in the afterlife to unite the individual's _immortal_ soul," Pomona paused and took a bit of biscuit, adding dryly, "Quite poetic."

She shifted and waved a bit of the biscuit as she continued, her brow furrowing as she thought hard.

"Our own understanding of the writings is less symbolic and a bit more troubling."

Pomona crossed her legs and polished off her biscuit.

"Some scholars believe that the ceremony simply released an individual from any curses or hexes absorbed during life, also freeing descendants from more nefarious spells that could be transferred down a bloodline… 'opening their eyes and mouth' to move beyond the Veil without guilt or cause for return as ghosts. However there are others who believe the ceremony does exactly as it indicates - that it's purpose is to reanimate the dead in a manner similar to Inferi, albeit providing the dead with an echo of their individuality… creating a much more formidable weapon."

Hestia's eyes were as wide as saucers and she visibly gulped.

"One of the darkest beliefs is that the ceremony allows the soul to float between this world and the next - Opening the Eyes and Mouth to a state beyond our comprehension, rending the soul in the process and allowing an individual to cross between the Veil at will, thereby making them a master of Death itself."

For a moment, the room was silent as Pomona waited for Hestia to absorb those theories - her expression revealing her utter horror at the last notion. The witch gazed into the crackling flames open-mouthed and it was a moment before her lashes fluttered and she re-focused on Pomona with a questioning gaze.

Reaching out, Pomona tapped the parchment that had fallen into the crease of the chesterfield at Hestia's side.

"Now, there are a _seven_ total items required for the ritual and _five_ artifacts on this inventory that could be utilized. Three are located in the Library Vaults. One is in Restoration and is a Class-A Dark Object. And your missing item is also required."

"Why do you know all of this, Pomona?" Hestia asked softly, her gaze searching but her voice hard and accusatory. Pomona noted that the witch was grasping her wand rather firmly. _Smart girl._

"You can put down your wand, dear," Pomona said quietly, smiling even as Hestia's eyes fluttered in surprise. She lifted a wry eyebrow and sniffed mirthlessly as she added, "Just because I'm old doesn't mean I've forgotten the Auror ways… though I have no doubt that you'd give me a run for my Galleons if we were to duel now in my living room."

Hestia gave her a lopsided smile and relaxed slightly, though she clearly was waiting for an answer.

"I cannot give you a solid answer to that without betraying the trust of someone I love. However I will say that in my younger days I held company with one who would go on to become a true Necromancer. Let us say simply that I managed to pick up on aspects of their research in the time that we were together and that fortunately or unfortunately, in this case, I know little more about the actual discipline of Necromancy beyond what I've just shared," Pomona explained, shaking her head softly. _Merlin, I haven't thought about her in years…_

"I… didn't realize that Necromancy was still considered a valid practice," Hestia murmured, visibly shuddering.

"Not all Soul Magic is Dark, my dear," Pomona replied, pausing to sip her tea. The spicy blend soothed the back of her throat which had become tight with remembered emotion. "Like many aspects of our world, that which is unique or difficult to understand is often regarded with fear."

Hestia nodded, though something in her expression told Pomona that she was not entirely convinced. Setting down her cup she tried a different tactic.

"As an Auror were you not trained by learning counterspells and curses alongside the actual hexes and curses themselves?" Pomona asked curiously.

Hestia frowned and nodded.

"Does that make you a Dark witch?"

Understanding crossed the woman's face and Hestia gave a thoughtful nod.

"Point taken, Pomona. Forgive my suspicion," she replied firmly, her eyes already gaining a bit of the flashing steel that Pomona had come to appreciate.

Though the witch was a firecracker to be sure, she was also possessed of a soulful maturity that allowed her to empathize and understand even the most polar opposite of individuals. Pomona was reasonably sure it was a quality that had once made her such a skillful Auror.

Hestia rose quietly, crossing her arms and moving closer to the fire where her dark hair took on a reddish tinge.

"Well, fuck me sideways with a Cleansweep," the witch murmured. Pomona's eyebrows rose to greet her hairline. Before she could open her mouth to inquire, Hestia whirled around and pinned her with an intense look.

"It seems like we have a problem on our hands," she said softly.

Pomona's lips twisted and she nodded in agreement, vanishing away her tea and biscuits.

Her appetite seemed to have disappeared.

"Indeed it does."


	37. Chapter 36 - Interlude

The fire crackled in the hearth as Minerva drew her robes in closer around her body.

Her tongue ran carefully over her teeth for a moment before she lifted her glass to her lips and swirled more of the silver-label single malt around her mouth. The smooth flavor brought a touch of numbness to her tastebuds even as it opened into her sinuses, the sweet notes doing little to appease to the dark thoughts running through her mind.

Maria had disappeared upstairs at half past eleven and Minerva had to admire the woman's fortitude. They had spoken more openly when the witch had arrived to the Manse for a late dinner, though Minerva was quick to discern that Sturgis had told his wife little concerning what he had uncovered at the Ministry.

Minerva had vacillated upon revealing the severity of her husband's clandestine appointment and had erred on the side of caution. She had been relieved when Maria didn't press, simply accepting the fact that she needed to stay the night at Minerva's while Sturgis completed a mission on the Order's behalf. If all went as planned then Maria could retain her innocence and it would be Sturgis' place to explain the situation.

Minerva took another sip of whisky, sniffing mirthlessly as she once again considered how many lives continued to be affected by the Order's activities. _How many innocent people had been tainted? How many lives interrupted?_

"When will it end?" she whispered quietly.

The logs sizzled and popped in the hearth, but beyond that there was no answer.

A flash of silver appearing before her had Minerva on her feet in moments, wand at the ready, her heart pounding. Annoyed by her overreaction, she straightened as the Patronus began to coalesce, but despite the cheery flush of the magic, Minerva's heart sank as a weasel appeared and not the grey heron she had expected.

Arthur Weasley's solemn voice spilled into the empty room.

"Sturgis Podmore is dead. Keep Maria safe and notify the Order."

Her heart clenched and Minerva bowed her head, jaw clenching even as a dark thought escaped the whirling combination of anger, shock, and guilt that flooded through her.

... It was not about to end anytime soon.


	38. Chapter 37

_A/N: A bit of a transitional chapter here, but we'll be meeting some new people in the next one... Thanks for the feedback!_

* * *

Eleftheria floated through the eerily silent villa, already knowing she would find the two witches she sought in the kitchen. The day was rather bright and glowing squares of sunlight streamed across warm tiles as she turned the corner, her robes whispering across the floor quietly.

"Kaliméra," she murmured softly.

Eleftheria swept over to the kitchen counter, unperturbed by the lack of reply - indeed she had not expected one at all. She prepared a cup of coffee, quickly noting how her two charges sat on opposite sides of the informal table, Hermione's eyes rather red-rimmed and Dia's spine unnaturally stiff as they gazed toward their breakfasts unseeingly.

For a long moment, the only sounds were the gentle spill of sugar and the tinkling of her spoon before Eleftheria turned around, expression falling somewhat as she crossed over to the table and placed a warm hand on the younger witch's shoulder.

"Hermione, my darling… I am sorry for your loss," she murmured softly. The young woman's chin tucked and she bit her bottom lip before nodding.

"Thank you, Yiaiyia," she whispered. A glance to the other end of the table saw her niece with a more complicated expression upon her face, which smoothed as soon as her seafoam eyes recognized Eleftheria's attention.

"Yiaiyia," she said simply, the greeting sounding rather hollow.

Eleftheria sighed and waved a chair out on the adjacent side of the table, between them both. She chose to sit closer to Hermione.

"I came as soon as I heard," she said, by way of explanation. "I received word this morning and just saw the official article regarding... the accident."

"It was _not_ an accident," Hermione hissed vehemently, her voice choked with emotion. She blinked a few times and then slumped back, one finger picking at the table's wood grain absently. "Minerva's message was evidence enough."

"Then we are all in agreement," Eleftheria replied kindly, already knowing that her niece had likely shared her thoughts.

Hermione's shimmering eyes looked up to hers, her brows drawing together.

"What do you think?"

Eleftheria wet her lips for a moment before sitting back and considering the question. She had already spoken with several sources since receiving the news around five. The Greek opinion was a bit divided, but those she trusted had found the death rather suspicious. The wizard, Sturgis Podmore, had been in a well-respected position within the British Ministry.

"Forgive my bluntness, Hermione… I know Sturgis was a friend. However I _do_ believe it was an accident in the sense that he was not intended to be killed from the outset," she replied carefully. "Intelligence suggests that your friend may have gone to meet someone after his shift. I have to wonder if he was simply stepping into circumstances bigger than his control."

"What do you know?" Hermione asked sharply, surprising her with the forcefulness of the command. A shift to her right indicated that her niece was also interested. Caramel eyes softened slightly.

"We have heard nothing since receiving Minerva's message," Hermione whispered.

Eleftheria sat back and took a sip of coffee.

"When the _Prophet_ arrives, you will likely read that Sturgis Podmore was killed in an accidental warding misfire as he returned to the Ministry after a late-night sweep of the building's perimeter. She gave a thoughtful tilt of her head. "A plausible first theory and Renata has confirmed the diagnostics."

"You know Renata?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"My work with the Guild often brought me into adjacent missions alongside the Order during the First War," she explained. "Though admittedly, Renata's reputation and career precedes her, and I have no doubt that her Healing hands have touched many a person across all of Europe."

Another subtle shift told her something far more curious. _I see Hermione has not informed my niece of our conversation…_

"And?" Dia prompted, an edge finding its way into the simple word. Eleftheria lifted an eyebrow.

"Sturgis Podmore was an accomplished Auror long before he ascended to the role of Deputy Head in the British Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Even a decade or longer out of the field, that entire skill-set would never have abandoned him," she said quietly. "Certainly not for something as ridiculous as a run-in with the Ministry's wards."

Hermione's brow furrowed.

"So you think that someone made it _look_ like an accident?" she asked.

"It is not the first time in the last month," Eleftheria replied dryly, rearranging her robes.

"Perhaps Sturgis uncovered something unsavory… or was about to," Dia said, frowning lightly. "With his position in the Ministry, there would have been little chance for someone to escape unscathed if he had opened an official investigation to pursue it. Killing him would have been the logical option."

Hermione made a face, likely for how calmly Dia had relayed her thoughts. Her niece really _did_ have to work on her delivery.

"Minerva mentioned that the Order's information has been leaked and that we are all to lay low for a while," Hermione said after a moment, biting her lip worriedly.

"I highly doubt she meant that your information was leaked to the press. While knowledge that the Order has been restored would undoubtedly be irritating and alarming to many in the public eye, a number of you are already well-known for your efforts during the War," Yiayia replied, thinking aloud. "No, if she told you to lay low… it means your profiles have been released to the enemy."

Hermione's eyes had grown wide and Dia sat forward to place a reassuring hand on the table.

"Hermione… consider how high-profile you were during the War," she said softly. "Does this truly make circumstances much different for you?"

The younger witch blinked and frowned.

"No, I suppose not," she replied. "Though the blanket statement makes me worry that that _everyone_ currently involved will now be at risk."

"It would seem to me that such information could have only come from within the Ministry's files, which likely haven't been updated since the end of the War. With Shacklebolt at the helm, I doubt there has been any incentive nor time to create new files for your new party," Eleftheria said reassuringly.

Hermione was looking at her curiously, perhaps wondering how she knew so much about Great Britain's Ministry. _Takes one to know one..._

"I would agree," Dia said, nodding. "Likely, she wishes all of us to remain beyond suspicion and out of the way of the continuing investigation and public scrutiny. For now I believe it best to heed Minerva's words."

"Do you not wish me to attend the funeral then?" Hermione asked, her shoulders slumping slightly.

"If you were in Great Britain, would you have attended?" Dia inquired gently.

"Yes, of course."

"Will it raise suspicion if your return from abroad to do so?"

Hermione's eyes fluttered and her mouth twisted.

"I am not certain," she said softly. "If I were there, it would make sense for me to attend since a large number of us who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts would be there to pay our respects. But outside of knowing him through the Order, we were not close… I suppose I don't know if it would look suspicious if I were to make a special appearance."

Dia tilted her head.

"Then I believe we should consult Minerva's advice," she said softly. Hermione nodded, gesturing slightly to indicate that Dia could make the call.

Eleftheria's eyes narrowed at the small movement. _It seems they have come to an arrangement._

"I was planning to owl Harry and Ron today," Hermione continued quietly. "Do you think I can mention Sturgis in my letters?"

"Carefully," Eleftheria and Dia spoke together and exchanged a look. Eleftheria sniffed lightly and took a sip of coffee.

"Unless you have another method through which to communicate?" Dia asked, one eyebrow lifting as she pressed a hand to the tabletop in apparent invitation. _Interesting..._

Hermione's mouth opened for a moment as some form of realization spread across her features. One hand pressed itself to her pocket and then a moment later she was still, hands folded atop the table. _I see we have a bit of work to do with those first reactions… perhaps Konstantinos can help with that._

"I understand."

"If you still wish to owl them, I would suggest we make a stop by the post office. Hermes is rather recognizable," Dia said even as Hermione nodded.

Eleftheria polished off the rest of her coffee and vanished the cup and saucer. The development between her niece and Hermione posed new problems for her to consider.

"Well darlings, I apologize for the interruption," she said, rising smoothly. "However, it seems I have a bit more investigating to do. I'm going to loiter around the Pantheon's halls until someone breaks down and tells me what I want to know. Shall see you in a few hours?"

Hermione looked to Dia with a surprised expression, apparently having forgotten about the family lunch.

"Indeed you shall, theia," Dia replied assuredly, giving her a solemn nod. "I expect we'll arrive around one."

"Very well. I'll leave you to your morning then… Adieu!"

* * *

The mood at Grimmauld Place was somber and though he had sat down to review his notes for Defense, Harry hadn't begun reading them at all since settling nearly a half hour previous.

The Headmistress' patronus had appeared at the Burrow during breakfast with Arthur Weasley returning not long after, dark circles beneath his eyes, and a deep furrow at his brow.

While Harry and Ron hadn't known Sturgis Podmore very well, it was clear that the elder Weasleys were greatly impacted by his death… and while Arthur had been unable to reveal the particulars of the ongoing investigation, everyone had quickly divined that the circumstances had been suspect. The Headmistress' message of warning had seemed to confirm that fact and when the tension at the Burrow had grown too great, he, Ginny, and Ron had slipped away to Grimmauld Place to find some peace.

 _The Daily Prophet's_ article on the matter had been predictably sensationalized and also entirely tactless. The memorial for Sturgis had been relatively tame and well-written, though a number of additional opinion pieces had sprung up on the next page calling the wizard's efforts with the Order a conspiracy.

Everyone was uneasy with the idea of the Order profiles having been released, and although Arthur hadn't said as much, Harry had understood that the Headmistress had meant they hadn't been released to the _public_ … which only left one terrifying alternative.

After a bit of discussion, he, Ron, and Ginny had agreed that circumstances were much as they had been prior to the height of the War, and that being marked as an "undesirable" of sorts was something they had all already experienced. Ginny had her public position as a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies to hide behind while he and Ron were firmly ensconced beneath the protective grasp of the Auror Academy. While the consequences were something he could live with, Harry was more preoccupied with dark thoughts about those who had stolen their information... and the reasoning behind Sturgis' mysterious death.

A scuffling sound, a pop, and some muffled curses caught Harry's attention and he was on his feet in a moment, wand outstretched as he quickly circled behind the armchair and followed the line of the wall to pause at the threshold of the living area.

"Ron?" he called loudly. He thought he heard some irritated mutters.

"'S fine, Harry. Kreacher… er, captured an owl…"

Frowning, Harry turned the corner and peered across the hallway to see Ron emerging from the drawing room holding a disgruntled looking barn owl with mussed feathers and a rather ratty letter in one claw.

"Oh, uh… here," Harry offered, digging in his pocket for an owl treat. Unexpectedly his fingers brushed something warm and he pulled it out alongside a bit of dried frog leg.

"You still carry your D.A. coin?" Ron asked incredulously, pinching the treat and stuffing it in the owl's beak rather gracelessly. It nipped his fingers before fluttering off, clearly ascending the staircase in search of an exit.

"Try the Library!" Ron called after it, leaning forward as Harry brushed a few pieces of lint away from the glowing coin.

"I think Hermione sent it!" Harry said excitedly, squinting at the small numbers. "Wonder what she means by this?"

"Blimey, looks like this letter is from her too," Ron replied, already splitting the tattered envelope with his fingers.

They moved to sit on the bottom steps of the staircase as Ron passed him a parchment, the both of them settling into read with a bit of much-needed enthusiasm.

 _Harry,_

 _Thank you so much for your letter… I can't tell you how much it meant to me, especially considering how rotten I've been to you both in the last several months._

 _It would take more than a few pieces of parchment to explain my reclusive behavior and honestly I'd rather wait until we can meet - you deserve to hear my response in person. I can't tell you how many times I've considered writing… even before we last saw each other, and I've been so ashamed of myself for pulling away. And so I have to thank you earnestly, from the bottom of my heart for still believing in me despite my silence… even though I've managed to lose myself a little along the way, I'm starting to heal and come around and it's time I put everything out in the open._

 _I'm hoping there will be an opportunity for us to meet in person sometime soon. Keep a look-out for another message or two once I get my schedule straight._

 _I know you'll be reading into the bit about losing myself… but I do promise that everything here has been going well._ _ **Really**_ _well, and perhaps that's been adding to my guilt. I've learned_ _ **so**_ _much in the last several months and it's been thrilling, Harry. I can't wait to tell you about some of it. I finally feel like I understand what to do with the rest of my life and that's a great feeling indeed._

 _I'm sending this after seeing a familiar feline that we all know well. While I've been assured that sending a few cat treats is fine on this end, I'm not so sure that it will be appreciated by others at large and I hope you'll forgive me if I don't manage to bring the catnip. People might think I'm a crazy cat lady!_

 _Anyway… I'm happy to hear that Kreacher has been keeping you on track. I've heard through the grapevine that you both are doing just fine without my nagging, though if you need me to charm some quills with some reminders, I'd be happy to send them along._

 _Stay out of trouble and don't go looking for it, all right?_

 _See you soon, I hope!_

 _All my love,  
Hermione_

Ron waited for him to finish, impatiently reading over his shoulder a bit before Harry let the letter drop, a small smile on his face. Even in writing, he could hear his friend's voice and it felt good to know that she was doing well.

"Well?" Ron asked.

"Did she write you about the cat treats? I'm assuming that means she received Minerva's message, but I wasn't sure about the rest," Harry said, frowning as he re-read the words.

"Pretty sure it means that she's unsure of whether or not to come back for Sturgis' funeral," Ron replied, looking at his own letter.

"It sounds like her master approves… but the part about 'others at large' and 'crazy cat lady' I think means that she's not sure how it will look to the public. Someone might read into the connections to the Order and she's asking us to forgive her if she doesn't come back."

Harry's brow furrowed as he nodded. He pulled out the D.A. coin again and looked at it closely.

"Looks like the date is set for the 28th at… three in the afternoon," he said, tilting the edge to see the light more clearly. "What do we have on that day?"

"Nothing, that's a Sunday…"

"Did she say where to meet?" Harry asked, already looking through his letter for more clues.

"It's Hermione, I'm sure she'll find a way to send word." Ron shrugged, clearly confident that they would hear from their friend before time.

Harry paused, looking at his Ron's face which looked rather pensive.

"What'd she say to you?" he asked quietly, wondering what Ron was thinking.

"Probably 'bout the same as you… she wants to explain why she hasn't written us in person and that otherwise she's doing really well," he replied, one hand coming up to stroke his beard thoughtfully.

Though he hadn't said as much, Harry thought Ron's beard looked rather nice, and to be honest, he was a bit jealous that the look suited him so well. In comparison, Harry still felt he looked rather boy-ish.

"You alright, mate?" Harry asked softly. He knew that Hermione continued to be a hard subject for his friend to talk about.

Ron sniffed and shook his head.

"Yeah… just, y'know… sometimes thinkin' about her makes me wonder what would've happened if I'd just pushed a little harder," he replied, gazing down at the letter in his hands. "I'll always have to wonder whether or not I made the right choice in letting her go."

Harry's lips twisted as he clasped Ron's shoulders firmly.

"I can't know for sure… but I think you did both of yourselves a really good favor," he replied quietly. "Hermione needed to get away from here after the War and you were always dead set on attending the Academy."

"Yeah, but even distance -"

"Hold on," Harry interrupted, angling slightly so that he could rest his elbows on his knees and face his friend more directly. "As much as you love her and care for her, you have to know that all of your shared interests and similarities could be counted on one hand, right?"

Ron chuckled at that and he nodded, flipping Hermione's letter between his hands absently.

"Right… now, I know it can be argued that opposites attract. But d'you really think you would have made each other happy? In the long run, I mean?"

While they had talked around the issue of Hermione plenty of times, Harry held his breath… knowing that he'd never asked the question so pointedly.

Ron was silent for a long moment, his brows drawn together in thought.

"No…" he replied after a while. "As much as I hate to admit it, I know you're right."

Sighing, Ron slumped back on the stairs and crossed his legs, leaning back on his elbows while he stared unseeingly toward the front door.

"As much as I want a career as an Auror, I also know that eventually I want to settle down and have a family. I want what my parents have, Harry… without as many kids of course, and I'd be happy if my wife wants to continue pursuing her own career… but," he shook his head sadly, his lips twisting.

"I know that Hermione is destined for a non-traditional life. She _loves_ to learn in a way that I know I'll never understand… and while I know she wants kids eventually, we would have run into friction at some point. I would lose my patience and temper and she'd blow at up at me for it… we'd kiss and make up, but then it would keep spiraling until we'd eventually push each other away. And I'm not such a saint as to think it wouldn't be her career that would suffer for it."

Harry listened, surprised at how much thought Ron had put into things… and at how well he knew himself. Ron wiped a hand over his face tiredly before continuing.

"Hermione deserves to do all the things she wants. To keep learning and discovering and inventing things… getting her name written down in all the books that all our kids'll read at Hogwarts. She's ambitious, that's for sure. And as much as I love that about her, I also know that she's not what I need and I'm not what she needs. We both deserve other people."

The last bit was almost said as an affirmation and Harry smiled softly, proud of Ron for how much he had grown since their time at Hogwarts and how wise had become.

"Guess that's your answer, mate," Harry murmured, giving his friend a small smile.

Bright blue eyes found his and a moment later Ron gave him a half smile, sighing even as he folded his hands beneath his head and lay back against the staircase in earnest.

"Yeah… guess it is."


	39. Chapter 38

_A/N: Another bit of transition, but we're getting to some other points... sorry for the delay, I've been reworking a few things to come! Hopefully the next updates will come a bit faster..._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Dia hid a smile as Hermione paced another circuit around the kitchen, mumbling softly to herself even as she smoothed the front of her robes for the the fifth time in the last several minutes.

"Relax, darling," Dia murmured, looking up from her parchment. "You've already met Ana. Trust that Konstantinos and Melina are going to be much less... volatile. I cannot quite guarantee the same for the children, however considering you're a new face _and_ my apprentice, I daresay you already have quite the advantage."

"I know, I know," Hermione replied impatiently. "I just can't help my nerves now that I know Konstantinos is going to be _testing_ me today."

"Ana will be testing you eventually too," Dia replied with a soft chuckle. "I'd be far more worried about that if I were you."

"So you _know_ that she wants to teach me dueling?" Hermione asked, clearly unconvinced that Dia had given her approval for the subject at all.

Her apprentice had been anxious ever since Dia had explained that half the purpose of their impending visit to her family was for Hermione to move into the next stage of her training. While Dia traditionally waited until after the start of an apprentice's second classifications, she was anxious for Hermione to begin ahead of schedule.

Recent events were also a cause for her concern.

"Ana will teach you the formal rules to have under your belt as we move toward your debut in both Societies. Consider her lessons a variation upon those you are currently pursuing with Yiayia," Dia replied, setting down her quill. "Konstantinos will teach you the more well-rounded practice of how to duel for your life."

Caramel eyes widened and Hermione groaned, plunking her elbows on the island despairingly.

"I don't understand the issue, kopelia. You are already far more accomplished than any apprentice I've brought to him before," Dia said puzzledly.

"Yes, but I was never _good_ at Defense. I barely scraped an "O" on my N.E.W.T.s," Hermione replied fervently, her eyes slanting with the force of her hands pressing at her temples. _But you succeeded, Hermione._

"I still don't understand," Dia replied.

Her apprentice seemed to be spiraling through insecurity after insecurity if their bond was any indication, and Dia was further puzzled after the redrawing of their contract the day previous. Hermione already _knew_ that she needed to further her training in this manner, and she had already spoken of it with passion.

Dia couldn't understand why now, of all times, the witch seemed to be doubting her abilities.

Hermione sighed and hopped up on a stool, her brows drawn in frustration.

"Defense and dueling was always Ron and Harry's thing," she said softly. "I was always the bookish one. And while I could hold my own for a while, I always knew that they would be there to step in and help out. I'm not _good_ at this, Master, I already _know_ it. I just… don't want to disappoint."

"Hermione, I will have no more of this talk," Dia said firmly. "You are here to learn, not to be judged on what you do and do not know at this moment. You have plenty of practical experience from the War, you are a creative thinker, and you are in excellent physical condition. Konstantinos is a wonderful teacher and _he_ is the one who shall help make this your 'thing,' as you say. The assessment today is to merely discern the direction your training will take."

Hermione mumbled something under her breath and leaned forward, kicking the island sullenly with a bare foot.

"Stop your petulance and speak your mind," Dia said calmly, growing tired with the witch's moodiness. _She is being irrational._

The command seemed to cut through Hermione's haze and she sat up at once, a guilty expression crossing her face as she folded her legs demurely and smoothed her features.

"I simply wish that you would be teaching me," Hermione replied softly, her caramel eyes still betraying her feelings.

Dia's jaw worked for a moment before she sighed softly.

"Hermione, darling… the reason I so often include my family in my curricula is not to shirk my duties with you, but to challenge you. We are already quite comfortable with each other and when it comes to dueling and defense, our relationship can create a disadvantage," she explained patiently.

"Konstantinos and Ana will be able to assess you more objectively, without blind spots or preconceptions of how you might respond in a duel… not to mention they are both extraordinarily talented in this realm. You will receive a good education, and _only_ when you have mastered your own style and approach will you work with me to refine it."

Hermione's lips pressed together into a thin line and she nodded curtly, bizarrely reminding Dia of Minerva.

"Today is not a punishment, it is a challenge… and if your enthusiasm for your physical training is any indication, I daresay you might even enjoy it."

"I understand," Hermione said. Dia waited to see if there was anything more, but the witch simply looked at her. While she could still feel the threads of uncertainty, Dia knew that her words had been absorbed.

"Very well. A few more minutes and I shall be ready. You have an extra set of clothes?"

Her apprentice nodded and Dia gave her a warm smile.

"All will be well, darling. I promise you that."

* * *

A knock on the door caused Arthur Weasley to look up from his report.

"Come!" he called loudly, sitting back as the door swung open to admit the Minister of Magic in dark purple robes.

"Kingsley," he exclaimed in surprise, rising to shake the other man's hand. "Didn't expect to see you here today."

All thoughts of an impromptu discussion quickly evaporated as the taller wizard's broad features formed a grimace and he sighed slowly, one hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose. Kingsley shook his head sorrowfully. His wand emerged from one sleeve, waving the door shut absently and continuing with a series of flicks that Arthur recognized as a series of silencing and warding charms.

He frowned even as Kingsley sat in the chair on the other side of his small cramped desk overflowing with parchments. His friend looked haggard and Arthur felt a flash of sympathy for the wizard.

"If all had gone well, my friend, neither of us would have been spending our Sundays at the office," Kingsley replied after a moment. He leaned back and fixed Arthur with an opaque expression.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Arthur replied, sitting carefully and clearing his desk with a flick. He had an inkling that the Minister was speaking of Sturgis Podmore's death, though he didn't see why his friend would have traipsed all the way into the bowels of the Ministry to have a simple conversation about it. All of the investigations were being routed through Arthur's colleague and boss, the Head of Internal Security. _Why not have simply summoned Walt?_

"Sturgis' death was no accent, as I'm sure your preliminary investigation seems to suggest."

Arthur remained silent, drawing a deep breath as he considered that bit of information. His eyebrows rose.

"I admit the Aurors have left me with a number of questions," he replied slowly. "Their diagnostics have been remarkably inconclusive and at odds with the one's I've cast over the warding in Section 12. After these reports I was about to send a recommendation to Walt that we expand the investigation beyond the Ministry's walls."

"What do you believe you will find?" Kingsley asked quietly. Arthur tilted his head, steepling his fingers as he considered the question. It was clear that the Minister already had thoughts upon the matter.

"As of right now, I wouldn't be comfortable hazarding a guess. The Healers indicate that Sturgis' injures are consistent with an energetic build-up of a warding misfire that would have killed him instantly. The Aurors indicate that Sturgis' wand cast several multiphasic shields prior to his death, none of which should have interacted with the wards in such a manner, and all of which should have set off the security sensors."

Arthur paused and frowned as he thought.

"Furthermore, the wards themselves indicate an energetic disruption, but at a low level that would have been uncomfortable, yes… but hardly strong enough to kill him. I have three sets of inconclusive data and must believe that there is more to this matter than what currently meets the eye. A number of the Aurors working with me are in agreement."

Kingsley nodded and his gaze slid away, traveling over Arthur's teeming bookshelves and stacks of parchment. The large wizard sighed softly.

"Regrettably, I do not believe you will find the answers you seek. Perhaps it will come as a surprise to you that Sturgis' death does not come as a surprise to me. I had thought that he would have been discreet enough to avoid arousing suspicion, but it seems my confidence was misplaced…"

Kingsley trailed off, a deep furrow marking his brow as his mouth twisted into a wry smile. Arthur's jaw worked for a moment as he absorbed the Minister's cold words and blasé attitude. _Gods above… is he really admitting to what I think he is?_

"Sturgis and I worked together for nearly twenty years. A few days ago he came to me with information that threatened not only the Ministry's internal security and the people within our ranks... but the safety of every magical man, woman, and child within all of Great Britain," Kingsley intoned quietly.

Arthur blanched.

"I admit that I thought Sturgis was exaggerating a bit... and so I sent him to take care of it. Alone."

The wizard fell back and scrubbed a hand over his face. Arthur was surprised to see that dark eyes were bright.

"I failed him, Arthur… I failed to listen closely and now my best friend is dead."

The statement came out as little more than a whisper and Arthur watched with a sense of detached fascination as the Minister's shoulders shuddered softly, his heavy hand falling away to rest at one side. For a moment, Arthur would have easily believed that the man before him held the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But a moment later, Kingsley sat forward rather abruptly, his expression a mix of sorrow and regret.

"It seems I am now in need of someone who can take over Sturgis' position and continue the work that he left unfinished. You've always had an eye for strategy and logic, Arthur. Half the missions in the Order succeeded because of your ability to see what others did not."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably even as dark brown eyes gazed back at him resolutely. A deep sense of foreboding began to settle in his stomach and he already knew what his friend was about to tell him.

"I am shifting you over to Sturgis' position as Deputy Head of the Investigative Department. I've wanted you over there for a long time, though I never imagined it would happen in this manner. Unfortunately, you will also inherit the task which lead our friend to his untimely demise," Kingsley said, shaking his head softly.

"I cannot impress upon you the importance of discretion in this matter, Arthur. Following our inquiries, the Ministry's reputation must hold in the public eye. Internal matters are to remain within the company… I cannot have even the slightest _hint_ that the Ministry has been compromised..."

"If I were to refuse?" Arthur asked quietly. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end and every instinct told him that the matter at hand was far too large a commitment to make on such little information.

While he didn't doubt the sincerity of his friend's words, a wizard had just lost his life. _A good man, a good **Auror** … what makes him think you can do what Sturgis could not?_

Kingsley's expression shifted and Arthur thought the taller man might've been regretful.

"Then I would be forced to promote someone less qualified and whose council and discretion I would trust less… whose life would be placed at risk as they absorbed the burden that Sturgis failed to relieve," he replied seriously.

"There is also the matter of the Order of the Phoenix. I trust you received Minerva's message?"

"It was I who told her to send it," Arthur replied honestly. Kingsley sniffed mirthlessly.

"Then you are already wrapped into this deeper than you know," Kingsley replied slowly. "Your discoveries have undoubtedly already made you a target… _but_ , you already have more resources available to you than Sturgis did. I will not make the same mistake twice, Arthur."

Arthur shifted in his chair. There were far too many variables to weigh and his mind raced with the implications of what the Minister was telling him. His brow furrowed as the tall wizard sat forward again, his eyes boring into Arthur's own with an intensity that made the room seem to shrink in around them.

"I need you to accept this, Arthur. I need you to do it quickly, quietly, and under the radar… I trust you, Arthur. Pick two or three wands that you trust above all - do not give me their names, but take any measures necessary to ensure that Sturgis' killer is brought to justice and this leak is contained. You can take them from the Ministry or involve the Order, it's up to you. Send any and all provisions you may need directly to me. Not to my secretary nor to my office. _To me._ Do you understand?"

"Yes," Arthur rasped, the pressure in his chest suddenly constricting.

"Good," the wizard said quietly. They gazed at each other for a long moment, the weight of their words hanging in the empty room.

Arthur took a deep breath. Not only would he be ascending to a position within the Ministry that was demanding in both its breadth and scope, but he would be absorbing the mysterious mission that had gotten Sturgis Podmore killed. _Whatever the scheme, it had to have been enacted by someone high up in the Ministry's ranks… no one else would have been able to hide the evidence._

For a bizarre moment, Arthur Weasley felt a heady sort of disconnect from his own body - a surreal sense that he had just signed onto a task that delved far deeper than he currently understood. It was a pivotal sort of moment, a defining one, perhaps… and even as he sat forward to listen Kingsley's subsequent words, he couldn't help shake the feeling of deep-seated doom that settled in around them.

A moment later the faces of his wife and family flashed through his mind… followed by close friends and the resolute members of the Order. He had a duty to them all.

"Tell me what I need to know."

* * *

Hermione swayed on the spot as she materialized in a deserted alleyway, one hand immediately rising to cover her nose as the smell of raw sewage quickly ghosted over her.

She looked around in bewilderment for a moment, her ears picking up a siren echoing in the distance, muted by the sound of rushing traffic and the heavy rhythmic clang of train cars.

A moment later she was flinching as Master Kallas let go of her waist and set off walking down the narrow passage, nimbly avoiding a few damp puddles and a number of broken bottles. Hermione hurried to follow, attempting to mimic the easy confidence her master exuded despite the strangeness of their unexpected surroundings.

It was clear they had Apparated into Athens if the ambient sounds were any indication, though unlike the clean and slightly surreal atmosphere of the Pharmakeion, the location seemed to indicate that they were in a Muggle part of the city.

Her Master's bright silk robes seemed out of place against the dingy atmosphere, though they did seem to blend into a few artful sprays of graffiti littering the walls as she moved forward confidently. Hermione picked her way through the alleyway carefully, absently noting how a majority of the bright paintings seemed to depict images of political protest. Many were violent or inflammatory and a number were covered in cruder scrawls demanding freedom of speech. Some of the images were rather good, and despite the smell and precarious pathway, Hermione was surprised to find that she rather enjoyed the colorful art.

Blue robes disappeared around a corner and Hermione quickly followed, slipping into a narrow passageway between buildings that seemed barely large enough for them to walk through. Her robes scraped along a stretch of dirty brick and she winced as something dripped on her from above, resisting the urge to ask the witch ahead of her just where the hell they were headed.

A moment later the passageway widened into an uneven square of pavement, surrounded by three industrial looking buildings with broken windows and a narrow driveway that appeared to extend into a shadowy street. A dog barked in the distance and as Hermione looked around, she could discern no evidence to suggest that any of the surrounding buildings were inhabited.

There wasn't as much graffiti on the walls in the small enclave and no signs that seemed to indicate what the buildings were used for. An eerie feeling settled over her and Hermione shivered a moment before turning back to the witch who was leading them.

Master Kallas moved off to their left, heading for a rusty looking metal staircase that led upward toward a scuffed grey door. For some reason, the nondescript entrance seemed rather foreboding and Hermione shivered again, wishing that she knew where they were.

Her master glanced back at her expectantly and Hermione dutifully followed, adrenaline pumping through her system even as her mind worked to rationalize their strange journey thus far. _She's not going to kill you and leave your body… she's your master. She's bound to protect you._

A moment later she watched as her master stroked the door with a finger, waiting for a moment and before giving Hermione an enigmatic little smile as there was an audible click from within.

Pulling it open she gestured for Hermione to go first.

"We're almost there, darling," Master Kallas murmured, as Hermione stepped through, nose picking up the scents of sweat, metal, and a few other synthetic smells that she couldn't name.

She walked down a shabby grey hallway whose singular lightbulb flickered ominously, clutching her wand and feeling her body tense with nerves and anticipation. _She's not going to kill you…_

Master Kallas pressed past her as they reached the end of the hallway, two doors on their right indicating bathrooms, while a door to their left boasted a caution sign and some chipped red paint.

With a delicate hand, the witch opened it and stepped through, a curious little smile already painting her face even as Hermione shivered again.

Stepping through, Hermione froze and blinked.

And kept blinking.

They were standing in the corner of a huge… _gym_ , though it was unlike any sort of gym Hermione had ever seen.

The entire space looked like it had once been a large warehouse, with narrow windows near the top of the tall ceiling and big fluorescent lights shining down from above. The large space below boasted a sprawling mess of stairs, ramps, and uneven surfaces; everything looked like one large complicated obstacle course, including several overhangs and handholds on the walls that gave Hermione a bizarre sense of standing before a compressed city or large adult playground.

The walls were largely white, though a number were heavily graffitied in the manner she had seen outside, boasting complicated images of bodies engaging in what looked to be martial arts combat and complicated acrobatics.

Blinking again, Hermione was surprised at how clean and… well, _legitimate_ everything appeared, but before she could open her mouth to ask a question, a voice interrupted.

"Theia!"

A tall man suddenly bounded into view, jogging over to them wearing Muggle basketball shorts, a loose tank top, and bright neon blue trainers. He had a lanky, muscular build and Hermione found herself admiring the fluid ease of his movement as he drew closer, a lopsided smile gracing his face. Dark curls peeked out from a relaxed grey beanie and she was surprised to see a number of tattoos crossing the tanned olive skin.

"Konstantinos," Master Kallas murmured affectionately, reaching up and bringing the man's face to her lips as she kissed him three times on both cheeks. The tall man blushed immediately and Hermione was suddenly reminded of Ron.

"You must be Hermione," the man said, brightening as he noticed her.

He extended a large hand and gave hers a surprisingly gentle shake. If Hermione had any doubt that the wizard was her master's nephew, it was solved as her gaze caught seafoam eyes that smiled down at her kindly.

"Darling, this is Konstantinos," Master Kallas said unnecessarily, smirking softly as she placed a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Konstantinos, Hermione. You must give her a moment to recover from our journey. Likely she thought I was bringing her to an untimely demise."

"I… didn't think that," Hermione stammered, flushing even as her master chuckled knowingly.

"I know the neighborhood leaves a lot to be desired," Konstantinos said good-naturedly, bumping Hermione with a lanky elbow. "But Exarchia has a radical history and I've always thought it lent itself well to our activities here…"

He leaned forward to speak in a stage whisper.

"My aunt always complaining about it, but I secretly think she likes it… she's always been a bit of a rogue at heart."

Hermione found herself grinning at his overly dramatic eyebrow wagging, even as her master pursed her lips disapprovingly and crossed her arms. Despite the pose, she could see the witch's eyes twinkling and somehow she knew that the two had a good relationship.

"Anyway… welcome to our gym!" Konstantinos said enthusiastically, walking backwards to gesture to the space. He motioned for her to follow as Master Kallas drifted away behind them.

"I've never seen anything like it," Hermione replied truthfully, looking around in amazement. _It's all so… **bright.**_

"I co-own this place with a few good friends of mine… though they've graciously allowed us the room for today," Konstantinos explained with a smile. "We've modeled it after some of the Muggle gyms that are starting to spring up across Europe. Ever heard of something called parkour?"

"It's like free-running, right?" Hermione asked, even as Konstantinos visibly brightened and gave her a smile.

"Yes… good! So you've heard of it!"

He paused at the center of what appeared to be a slanted ramp in the middle of the huge space, holding out a hand for her to join him. Hermione stepped up and looked around, still taking in the strange environment.

Everything was covered in a thin layer of black foam that looked like it was meant to absorb impact, and Hermione noted a few places across the floor that appeared to be strategically placed trampolines. All of the other surfaces were painted in various neon colors and she could see a number of footprints in odd places, as though people had been bouncing off the walls.

"The roots of parkour go back as far back as Muggle World War I… beginning with a man called Georges Herbért who sought to train military soldiers more efficiently. He was one of the first people to develop obstacle courses for the troupes, creating a system called _parcours du combattant_ , which means-"

"The fighter's course," Hermione supplied, beginning to look around the room in appreciation.

"Ah, you speak French?" Konstantinos asked, his face brightening. Hermione smiled and nodded as he clapped her on the back cheerfully.

"Well! Très bien! Unfortunately for you… that's about all the French involved in this experience," he chuckled, waving to the gym at large. Hermione found herself smiling again in reply.

"Military obstacle training is sometimes shortened to _le parcours_ , and essentially is made up of what you see in Muggle movies - running, climbing, jumping, crawling through things. Activities to challenge the body, ensuring that a person develops stamina, strength, and agility together."

Konstantinos gestured as he spoke, pointing out various obstacles around the gym including various ropes and ladders, freestanding railings and uneven bars, and lots of varied surfaces of different heights and slopes that almost looked like the complex rooftops Hermione remembered from Paris or from more industrial areas in London.

She looked back as Konstantinos continued, her admiration growing as he continued to speak.

"Parkour developed a few generations later, fairly recently in fact. David Belle is considered the official founder... he was a Muggle who started bringing some of those same ideas to more urban areas in France a few years back, though his father trained in le parcours and some people debate where the credit should really go," Konstantinos paused and rolled his eyes, smiling as he continued.

" _Anyway_ … boring history aside, you'll notice that our gym has a few things that you might see in city streets or on top of buildings. Basically, the practice of an obstacle course has been brought into contemporary life… for the purpose of sport and physical training, and also simply, for the fun of it."

He paused and looked at Hermione, shrugging lightly.

"Care to guess as to why it might prove a good method of training for witches and wizards?" he asked.

Hermione blinked, only slightly caught off-guard by the question.

"Well… I suppose it would force your body to move in unexpected ways. Your muscles would have to react differently to the changing surroundings and you would have to know how to use your body in order to do everything safely. I suppose that would correlate physical agility to magical agility?" Hermione replied, thinking aloud.

Konstantinos nodded thoughtfully. "Good… what else?"

Hermione's brow furrowed, her arms crossing unconsciously as she looked at the diverse environment. There were so many different pathways to choose from… _almost like a terrain of sorts._

"I guess that in a real dueling situation, you're not always going to be in control of your location. Parkour would give you a physical advantage that would allow you to react to your environment well?" she replied, half-asking the last statement.

"Nice, good answers," Konstantinos replied warmly, his eyebrows raising slightly as he gestured to the room.

"I would also add that parkour encourages you to go with your gut instincts - a skill that doesn't come naturally for many witches or wizards when they find themselves in a real-life dueling situation. Defense classes teach us a method of polite exchange… one person fires a spell and the other parries. It's great for learning, but in a real battle, you know that's not how it really happens, neh?"

Hermione nodded grimly, mind already flashing back to memories from the Battle of Hogwarts. There was only one rule: _survive._

"I have found that parkour helps connect the mind and body together in a way that helps facilitate that ease of reaction. There are two parts to the practice… maybe three," Konstantinos smiled and began ticking off on his fingers.

"The first part is the most complicated and involves learning physical methods and tricks to get yourself through a complicated environment safely - making sure you know how to leverage your weight, roll out of jumps quickly, all the practical things your body can accomplish to help you survive… the second step is to add magic to the equation - finding unexpected places to cast spells and hexes, using your environment to your advantage, and what I call _quickfire_ spells that can enhance and help you through the physical part with a bit more ease. The last step, for some, is to add a wand… and do all of those other things without snapping it!"

"That sounds complicated," Hermione replied dryly, already feeling a bit nervous. _So… you're here to learn parkour…_

Seafoam eyes crinkled and Konstantinos laughed, a full musical sound that Hermione found rather infectious and unexpectedly reassuring.

"It certainly is," he agreed, face splitting into a wide smile. "Come… let me show you what I mean."

He gestured for her to return to the side of the room where Master Kallas was watching with a soft smile. The witch had set out her Muggle exercise clothes on a small bench by the door and Hermione was surprised to feel relatively comfortable and excited. _What is with this entire family of talented people?_

"Now… T. D. here is going to depart in a moment, but not before she helps me with a little demonstration. It's one thing to talk through everything, but I think the most effective form of motivation is to see what we're going to be working toward," Konstantinos explained, fingers already beckoning to Master Kallas.

Hermione nodded, her curiosity growing as Master Kallas removed her outermost sets of robes and transfigured the rest into black leggings, a cropped black tank top, and a set of royal blue trainers. The dark mane of curls whipped itself into a severe braid and suddenly the witch looked like an entirely different woman.

While she used to train alongside her master more often, it was always startling to witness the transformation from the enigmatic Master to the serious athlete, and Hermione couldn't help but admire the woman's chiseled body as Konstantinos wolf whistled.

She bit back a smile as her master bit out a snarky reply in Greek, pushing Konstantinos away with one palm as he moved to envelop her in a hug. Bemusedly, she noted that the witch barely came up to her nephew's chest.

"Watch him, Apprentice," Master Kallas growled irritatedly as she breezed past. "My nephew is a handful."

Konstantinos simply chuckled and winked at Hermione. With a dawning realization, she suddenly realized who he reminded her of. _He's like the Greek version of Fred and George…_

"Now… Hermione if you want to stand over to the side, we're going to warm-up by exchanging roles," the wizard explained, gesturing toward the bench along the wall. "As soon as T. D. is ready to go, we're going to switch off - one person will fire an assortment of offensive spells from a stable position, the other person must work to evade them."

"T. D.?" Hermione whispered curiously, looking past him to where her master had begun jogging around the gym with practiced ease.

Konstantinos chuckled in reply.

"One of many nicknames I have for my aunt. She hates it. Theia Dia has a good rhyme going, but shortening it to T. D. always reminds me of the Muggle abbreviation for toilet paper and it's too good an opportunity to pass up," he grinned before cupping his hands around his mouth and calling, "Theia? You warm?"

Hermione bit back a laugh as her master sent a rude gesture in reply.

"Just asking!"

Konstantinos chuckled, waving after the witch cheerfully.

"Is this what you're going to have me do later?" Hermione asked, wondering what lay in store for the rest of her afternoon. The running and climbing she could do. _But the defense?_

"A version of it," the wizard replied, putting his hands on his hips as they watched his aunt leverage through a series of ropes and metal railings. "You can rest easy on the magic. T. D. tells me that you have had… practical experience," he paused and gave her a sad sort of half-smile as Hermione sniffed and nodded.

"Today, I'm mostly curious to see how you move… training the body often proves most difficult for the apprentices my aunt brings to me," he paused and gave her a wink. "I already know she never accepts anyone of below average intelligence or magical ability."

"Have you trained many of her apprentices?" Hermione asked, realizing that she had never truly thought to ask after the students who may have come before her.

Unexpectedly, the thought made her deflate slightly. _What if you're just one of many?_

"Yes and no," Konstantinos replied evenly. He watched his aunt take another easy lap before turning to her with folded arms, his head tilting to one side thoughtfully.

"My aunt has never brought someone before the middle of their second classifications," he said quietly. "Usually she brings them for the experience… to encourage her students to try something new and different that might appeal to their other interests or hidden talents. I've really only trained two apprentices with any sense of seriousness, though the first had very little natural ability and it was more of a mind-over-matter challenge for her… she did all right in the end. The second was a wizard who was already a fairly accomplished dueler and looking to increase his chances of applying for jobs in the Auror field after his Apprenticeship."

"Am I the youngest?" Hermione asked uncertainly. Seafoam eyes crinkled into a smile.

"Perhaps in terms of physical age… though from what Dia tells me, I think we might both be in for a surprise," Konstantinos replied cheerfully.

Unfortunately, that did nothing for Hermione's nerves and she bit her lip, turning back to watch her master navigate the complicated room with ease.

"I get the feeling you are worried," Konstantinos intoned calmly. She turned back and found him studying her with an open expression, his light eyes curious.

"I am… defense has never really been my strong suit," Hermione replied, her focus pulled as her master began picking up speed - sliding down a metal rail with ease before springing across a sloped surface and twisting into a complicated flip that ended in a roll before she took off running again.

"And… I don't know that I'll ever be able to do that," she whispered, her eyes following the witch across the room with trepidation.

A moment later, a large wall of black cotton interrupted her gaze as Konstantinos stepped in front of her.

"Eyy! First rule in my home is not to talk yourself out of something you haven't tried, neh?" he said, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. She had to crane her neck to look up at him.

"You are here to learn and it is my role to teach you. Leave the assessment and the possibilities to me, neh?"

Hermione nodded uncertainly, already feeling the spiraling threads of self-consciousness and embarrassment begin to weigh down. _Yes, but Master Kallas seems to believe in you… what if you let her down? What if this is all for nothing?_

"Listen. Neither me, nor my sister, nor my aunt was born with the skills that we have now. All of this took time and dedication," Konstantinos said softly. "The fact that Dia is bringing you to me tells me that you are unique. Maybe that means you have a talent for this, maybe it doesn't. Either way, we're going to train and we're both going to learn in this process. Any time you find difficulty, it's up to me to find a better way to help you learn. It'll keep us _both_ on our toes."

Hermione's lips twisted and she dropped her gaze, suddenly unable to look at the hopeful expression on Konstantinos face. The firm hand on her shoulder shook her gently.

"Eyy."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes as the wizard planted his other hand on her shoulder and began shaking her back and forth in a cajoling rhythm.

"Eyyyyy!"

Unable to help it, Hermione giggled, even as Konstantinos suddenly pulled her into a large bear hug, her arms automatically rising to wrap around his wiry frame.

"We're going to get through this, little sister. Ola tha pane kala," he murmured reassuringly. Hermione blushed lightly as he patted her back, stepping back to find that Master Kallas had jogged over, a concerned expression on her face.

Before either of them could say anything, Konstantinos turned in place, keeping one warm hand thrown across her shoulders carelessly as he fixed his aunt with a grin.

"Are you ready to get crushed, T. D.?"

"My nephew has a fondness for nicknames, Hermione," Master Kallas answered dryly, giving Konstantinos a stern look. "Doubtless you are going to leave here today with something equally… _childish_."

Hermione's eyebrows lifted in bemusement as Konstantinos laughed heartily before moving away and clotheslining the witch into an awkward sort of hug.

"Undoubtedly," he replied, spinning her around and marching them a bit away. "So do you want to go first or should I?"

A few minutes later, Hermione was standing at the edge of the gym… her breath held as one hand steadied herself against the wall.

 _I've never seen anything like this…_

The thought floated through her mind quickly, almost too fast for her to consider as she watched her master and Konstantinos duel in a manner that was astounding in its complexity, terrifying in its speed, and ultimately…

 _Exciting._

Another thought soon followed and Hermione tried to bury it even as spells flashed with such rapidity she could barely follow… thrilling her with the inherent difficulty and flooding her with conviction even as she flinched - her body moving in response to the duo whirling throughout the gym, utilizing every inch of space available...

Beneath the layers of flickering uncertainty, she knew a seed had been planted. And suddenly the lioness within her was invigorated, teeth ready to sink into a new challenge, and claws itching to get a handle on this entirely new way of utilizing magic.

 _I want to be good as good as them._

* * *

 _A/N: Translations:_

 _Ola tha pane kala_ \- Everything is going to be, OK


	40. Chapter 39

_A/N: We're getting down to the last little bits of this crazy "week," and then things will start to pick up with more steam. Thanks always for reading and reviewing!_

* * *

Minerva stepped out from the hearth, siphoning soot from her robes with a tired flick. She heard the portraits mutter as she pressed a shaking hand to the mantle, her wand clattering to the floor as the other pressed against her sternum with a gasp.

"Sylvie!"

A moment later, she was being guided to the chesterfield by tiny hands, the world falling into bright prisms even as her eyes suddenly streamed. A familiar bottle was pressed into her hand and Minerva knocked it back without sniffing, feeling a twinge of guilt for ignoring the musical whisper that reminded her never to drink something without confirming its contents.

She sighed a moment later as her fiery nerve endings were slowly dulled, her head falling into one hand as her breath returned to normal.

"Headmistress…"

The tentative voice brought her back to her surroundings and Minerva leaned back, stifling a groan as she pulled a stray pillow behind her back.

"Yes, Sylvie?"

Large eyes blinked up at her solemnly and the small House Elf wrung her hands.

"You is not going to be getting better?"

Minerva closed her eyes and let her head fall back.

For a moment there was nothing but silence... and she took a deep breath, reveling in the momentary respite from the pain that now splintered across her entire ribcage and down into the deep nerves along the front of her spine.

Her lips trembled for a moment and Minerva pressed them together, wetting them a moment later and blinking up toward the high ceilings where golden constellations had been painted long ago with a careful hand. Everything seemed so utterly pointless... and yet she felt the pressure of the future wrapping itself around her, infusing her tired body with its incessant pulse of uncertainty.

 _Are you going to get better?_

"No, Sylvie. I am not."

* * *

There was a thundering of footsteps and raised voices as Dia opened the door, bracing herself even as two small bodies suddenly collided with her legs, narrowly avoiding impact with the bright blue door that bashed into the wall with a loud noise. A smattering of giggles and enthusiastic chatter was muffled by her robes and she gently pressed forward, willing her two monkeys to allow her past the threshold.

"Children! Is this any way to greet your aunt?"

The disapproving voice called out from the hallway and Dia's eyes lifted in amusement, watching the shapely shadow of the children's mother draw closer.

"Yes!"

"Mana, it's been _forever!_ "

Finally managing to step into the foyer, she waved the door shut and sighed heavily.

"Forever is an exaggeration, my darling," Dia said firmly, placing her hands on two small heads, one nestled close to her waist, the other surprisingly close to her right shoulder. She tilted both of them back but couldn't prevent a smile from spreading across her features as the gleeful faces of her grand-niece and nephew gazed up at her adoringly.

"Kyveli," she murmured quietly, bending slightly to bestow the traditional kisses upon her grand-niece's dark cheeks.

"Theia, I _missed_ you!"

Dia had to work to restrain the laugh that threatened to bubble over as the littlest witchling of the family clapped a hand over her mouth and looked up at her with big eyes. Formal greetings were still proving to be difficult for the girl to grasp, mostly due to her overwhelming tendency to blurt out the first thing on her mind.

She lifted a brow as Kyveli ducked her head, managing to fold her little body into an awkward curtsy as Dia returned it with one of her own, deliberately mirroring the little witch to help her organize her feet. Kyveli stood proudly and shot an excited glance toward her mother who gave an approving nod.

Turning with a smile, Dia was pleased to find Ioannis standing at attention, one hand tucked behind his back as glowing eyes regarded her happily.

"Ioannis," she said softly. Taking his shoulders, she pressed three kisses to his light olive cheeks, proud when her grand-nephew accepted them with a respectfully lowered gaze.

He bowed to her gallantly as she curtsied again, noting the large swath of flour across his crown of light curls with a soft smile.

While she rarely used formal greetings in her day-to-day life, Dia and the rest of the family had agreed to model appropriate behavior until the children grew used to the tedium of rituals, titles, and honorifics expected of families belonging to the Athens Five.

It was much easier to discard etiquette as one grew than to learn it at a later age as her own apprentice was currently doing; the skills would remain with the children as they aged, allowing them to negotiate whatever circles they desired... though if initial impressions continued to serve, Dia imagined that both children would likely take after the Kefalas side of the family. Still, in order to break rules, one had to know them first.

Both children began to chirp as she finished greeting Ioannis and Dia held up a finger.

"Ah! Let us not forget the lady of the house," she murmured quietly.

She was pleased when both children fell silent obediently, watching her with bright eyes as she pressed past them to greet their mother who was standing off to one side, one eyebrow raised in amusement as Dia murmured a greeting and swept forward to kiss her cheeks. They curtsied quickly, the younger witch clearly hiding an eye roll as she inclined her head demurely.

"Melina, how are you?" Dia murmured as she rose, smiling broadly as the other woman finally swept forward to envelop her in a warm hug.

"Ready for you to adopt these two any day," the witch replied, laughing lightly as her children piped in with both protest and encouragement.

"Surely, you haven't been misbehaving for your parents?" Dia asked pointedly, stepping back and fixing the children with a stern look.

Ioannis bit his lip softly, a slightly guilty expression crossing his features while Kyveli simply fell forward and grabbed onto her robes with tiny hands, laughing loudly as she threw her little head back in devilish glee. Dia resisted the urge to laugh in response, simply pursing her lips and raising an eyebrow toward Melina who just sighed.

"Well, perhaps we can adjourn to the kitchen and help your mother prepare lunch while you explain what mischief you've accomplished since we last saw each other, hmm?"

Melina rolled her eyes and walked away as Dia was treated to another onslaught of high-pitched chatter - feeling slightly guilty at noticing how much Ioannis had grown and how long his little sister's hair had become. It had been at least two months since she'd been available to visit, and she quietly made a mental note not to let time slip away from her again. Her time with children was incredibly precious.

They managed to make their way to the kitchen where it became clear that Melina had matters well under control, though Dia insisted that the children help their mother prepare the outdoor terrace and help clean the flour from the floor.

She listened patiently, pleased to hear that Ioannis had read the three books she had given him at their last meeting - apparently enthralled by the Muggle book she had been recommended, declaring a new interest in Animagi after having finished it. She made another note to read _The Golden Compass_. Her grand-nephew had also managed to let slip a sudden dislike for travel and a quick shared glance with Melina indicated that her niece and nephew wanted her to run a bit of interference.

Ioannis had listened respectfully when his sister finally interrupted, chattering on about her studies in chemistry with breathless six-year old enthusiasm, and Dia had laid a proud hand upon his shoulder when he allowed Kyveli the floor without complaint. The little witch had recently discovered the potential of Alkali metals and water and it seemed Konstantinos had managed to set up some sort of experiment with Rubidium that had made quite the impression. Melina was still bemoaning the destruction of yet another perfectly good dollhouse.

Eventually, Melina finally banished the three of them to the living room, declaring a pressing need for space and the children were only too happy to oblige. Dia allowed herself to be led into the open space by Kyveli's insistent tugging, quietly noting that her nephew had some sort of new project unfolding on a library table in the corner. She briefly wondered what the Hellenic Council had given him this time.

"Theiatheiatheia!"

"Kyveli… repeating my name is not the best way to get my attention," Dia said gently, settling in upon the sofa with a glass of wine. "What would you suggest instead?"

The little brown face scrunched up in annoyance before her niece climbed up next to her, dark brows furrowed in thought.

"Baba says I need to wait," she replied with a heavy sigh, both hands coming up to brush a tangle of hair out of her face. Dia smiled and moved to help, marveling at how thick the silky strands were. _She has clearly inherited the Kefalas hair..._

"That is good advice," she agreed quietly, giving Ioannis an indulgent smile as he shyly leaned against the sofa's armrest and watched.

"I imagine that when _you_ are playing or working on a project, it can be very upsetting to be interrupted."

Her niece frowned as she considered the statement.

"But what if I have something to _tell_ you?"

"If it is important, will you forget it?" Dia asked gently, pulling the little girl onto the sofa so that her head rested in Dia's lap. The light blue play-dress rode up and she tugged it back into place as Kyveli's dark legs kicked up to the ceiling impatiently.

"No, but-"

"You have answered the question, my darling," she murmured, wrapping an arm around the small waist. "Although if it is something _very_ important… you may first say, 'excuse me.'"

The witchling heaved a sigh and Dia smiled, knowing it was definitely not the first time her niece had heard that bit of advice. She rubbed the firm belly reassuringly even as the dark brows continued to frown, the six-year old attention span momentarily distracted as little hands rose to play with the hem of one of her long sleeves.

"Now… let us listen to your brother for a moment as he's been very patient as you've told me about your recent projects."

Kyveli gave a non-committal murmur in reply, kicking her legs slightly as Dia gestured for Ioannis to sit at her other side.

"How is your English, my darling?"

The boy blushed and he shrugged lightly, moving a pillow to sit next to her cross-legged. Her nephew had become a bit more shy in the last year and while she missed the affectionate cuddling he used to bestow upon her as a little boy, Dia respected the change.

"It's okay…" he replied slowly.

"Okay enough to speak with my apprentice when she joins us later?"

Ioannis gave her a half-smile and shifted slightly, squishing the pillow in his lap as he nodded.

"Your father tells me that you've been researching schools," Dia said, sipping her wine and giving the boy a moment to think. Light brows furrowed slightly and she felt her heart clench at seeing the familiar expression of concentration on gentle features.

While she would always have a soft spot for both the children, Ioannis had captivated her from an early age for his deep thinking and gentle nature. Whereas Kyveli promised to grow into a spitfire rivaling her mother or godmother, Ioannis was a bit more emotional; sensitive and thoughtful in a way had clearly been learned from Konstantinos.

"Theia, I _know_ Baba wrote to you about next year," Ioannis said quietly, lifting pale green eyes to her beseechingly. "You know that I don't want to go to school when I get my wand. I want to study with _you_."

Dia tilted her head and waved her wine over to the glass coffee table, lifting her arm to accommodate Kyveli who twisted to look up at her quietly. Dia gave her a small smile to indicate that she was proud of the little girl's respectful listening.

"Would you care to talk about your reasoning further?"

Ioannis frowned and fiddled with the pillow's corner.

"I already know that I want to focus on Transfiguration," he replied firmly. "And you are one of the best in the field."

Dia tilted her head again as she considered a reply.

"How do you know that you will enjoy Transfiguration exclusively without having obtained your wand?"

"But that's what you did, didn't you?" he exclaimed suddenly. "You studied at home before going to Uagadou!"

Dia lifted an eyebrow at the outburst and Ioannis sighed heavily, pressing the pillow into the side of the sofa with a rough hand.

"I am not saying 'no', my darling," she replied. "However, I would like to understand what has brought you to this decision. What is about Transfiguration that captivates you, exactly?"

"It's one of the most challenging branches of magic," Ioannis replied immediately, a spark lighting his eyes. "It requires a combination of strong magical ability, concentration, creativity, and a good working knowledge of material and theoretical principles. I especially am interested in self-transfigurations, conjuring, and Transfigurative dueling."

Dia nodded, pleased with her nephew's description and assessment. _Very good…_

"Well-reasoned. However you also know that Uagadou has an excellent Transfiguration curriculum," she replied easily, beckoning her wine glass to return and taking a small sip. "Surely that must hold some appeal?"

"Yes, but it's in _Uganda_ ," Ioannis replied quietly, ducking his head even as Dia nodded thoughtfully.

"Does that bother you?"

"No! I just… I want to learn from _you_ ," Ioannis replied firmly.

"Then it has nothing to do with the fact that I live close to home?"

"Theia…"

Ioannis rolled his eyes and gave her an exasperated look even as Dia's eyebrows rose and she smiled softly.

"It's just a question, my darling,"

Ioannis groaned and leaned backward

"Yes! Okay… it does a little bit. Uganda is… far."

"There's also Beauxbatons or Hogwarts," Dia suggested diplomatically, adjusting as Kyveli squirmed and resettled on her stomach. "Though Uagadou _does_ share our same timezone. And there is such a thing as _magic_ …"

"Theia…"

She held up a hand and took another sip of wine as Ioannis gave her a frustrated smile. A moment later he melted forward and flipped so that his head could rest against her lap alongside his sister's as lightly tanned legs flung over the sofa's armrest. Dia brushed away small brown fingertips that threatened to interrupt the moment.

"Your brother needs a moment to talk through some challenging things, Kyveli. You can stay if you promise to be respectful as we help him through it," Dia murmured, holding the small hands in one of her own as she gazed down into light hazel eyes seriously.

Thick lashes blinked and then the little witchling nodded, curling slightly as she burrowed into Dia's side, lips moving gently as she murmured something to herself.

"Thank you. Now, what about Beauxbatons or Hogwarts?"

Ioannis sighed and looked up at the ceiling with a sad expression.

"I don't think I would like Beauxbatons," he replied after a moment. Brown curls suddenly twisted as Ioannis looked up at her curiously.

"Did you like Hogwarts when you were there?"

Dia took a moment to sip her wine as she considered the question.

"I did. I can assure you that their Transfiguration curriculum is excellent. You know that my former Mistress is now Head of the School, don't you?"

Her nephew nodded shyly, shifting to look down at his hands which were playing with the pillow again.

"Minerva McGonagall sounds kind of amazing."

Dia chuckled softly and stroked Kyveli's hair absently as she nodded. "She certainly is."

The smell of fresh spanakopita suddenly trickled into the room and Dia absently checked the time.

"My apprentice should be arriving soon with your father. At some point I would suggest talking to her about her experience at Hogwarts since she attended as a student. I don't know that my own experience as a professor will be very helpful to you as you are considering your options," she said softly.

Ioannis ducked his head slightly and flushed which she took to mean that he was slightly uncomfortable with the idea.

"I will ask Hermione to talk about it a little over lunch… then she can tell everyone and not just you, how is that?"

Her nephew nodded slightly and Dia smiled, taking another sip of wine before sending it back to the table.

"Ioannis… whatever you wish to do, know that I will support you," she said quietly, running her hands through his wavy locks.

"However, I want you to know that all transitions in life are difficult and none more so than the choice to leave home for a new experience. But it can also be an entirely _thrilling_ one… and an opportunity to learn a great deal about yourself alongside others who are also in the same situation."

Her nephew was silent and Dia let her hand trail over the boy's rounded cheek, drifting down to tilt his chin toward her slightly.

"Never let fear stop you from chasing your dreams, all right? And know that you will always have your parents, me, Yiayia, and the rest of the family behind you with whatever you decide. You will never be alone."

Green eyes blinked up at her searchingly and Dia's heart clenched again, her mind superimposing the boy's namesake for a brief moment before he shifted and gave her a small smile.

"Ok, theia."

* * *

"Yoohoo!"

Melina smiled as Yiayia's enthusiastic greeting resounded through the small house and she barely managed to bark a reminder not to assail the guests before her children streaked past in a blur of color and noise. Ana's deeper contralto was heard a few moments later and she could practically hear the sugar rush happening as the two witches undoubtedly slipped her little rascals their customary chocolate treats.

Glancing over the open counter she rolled her eyes at Dia who was sitting at one of the stools along the kitchen bar, smiling peacefully as she sipped her wine. She had been thankful for the witch's arrival as it had allowed her the time to finish her portion of the meal until her husband returned from the gym. From the scattered bits of conversation she had overheard, it seemed that Dia had managed to unravel a bit more about her son's sudden unwillingness to study and to act as a physical reminder for Kyveli that young witches simply weren't allowed to blow up whatever they desired.

Her husband's arrival with the new apprentice had proved to be another source of immediate interest and Melina had swallowed a smile at seeing her children suddenly whip themselves into shape in front of the mysterious new guest. From what she could tell, Ioannis seemed slightly smitten and Dia had worked her usual magic to cajole her son into listening the young woman's stories about Great Britain. Even Kyveli seemed interested, though the furrowing of dark brows still indicated that her littlest one had yet to cast judgement on the new face.

Glancing to the right, Melina looked over both witches with a careful eye. Her aunt seemed remarkably at ease considering all the turmoil of the previous week and Melina suspected it had a good deal to do with the enigmatic young woman who was currently sitting at her side.

The apprentice - _Hermione_ , seemed to be a polite young woman from all that she could tell from the last forty minutes. Upon arriving, Melina had been surprised when the witch had immediately offered to assist in the kitchen which she been quick to turn down, pressing a glass of wine into the young woman's hand and insisting that she relax after the undoubtedly challenging morning. The offer had been unexpected and Melina had found that she had been quite pleased… unaccustomed to guests of any sort proffering their assistance so freely.

She had continued to observe the witch quietly, noting that the young woman was kind and patient - speaking with both her children in a rather adult way that Melina favored. After an introduction from Dia, the witch gave them her full attention, asking leading questions and helping them both with their English even as she made them promise to help her with her Greek.

Melina had been both impressed and curious. While Dia had been singing the witch's praises for months and while Yiayia had been quick to chime in with her approval a few days prior, it was nice to see someone so young and talented take time with her children. The simple matters were most important to her and Melina was admittedly interested to learn more about the foreign woman... and to understand what made her so captivating to the other members of the family.

Lifting her focus from the feta cheese she was sprinkling onto a large bowl of salad, Melina fixed the witch in question with a careful eye.

"So Hermione… we haven't heard. What did you think of my husband's gym today? Feel up to training with a crazy man?"

A slightly glazed look passed over pretty features and Melina didn't miss the small smile that her aunt covered with a sip of wine. Hermione sighed and shook her head.

"I'm not sure what to think," she replied honestly, giving Melina a small chuckle. "I realize it will take time for all of the different facets to come together, and while I felt overwhelmed at times, I also felt quite supported. It was one of the hardest things I've ever been asked to do, but… Konstantinos was so patient. I think it's a new challenge that I'll be excited to try again."

Melina's eyebrows rose in surprise and she smiled, opening her mouth to answer when she was interrupted.

"Haaaa!"

They turned to find Konstantinos standing at the threshold to the kitchen, the triumphant look on his face somehow undermined by the flowery pink apron he wore over his robes.

"I knew she would like it! See? What did I tell you, my love? I am _irresistible!_ "

The last part was directed to her and Melina rolled her eyes and flicked a wrist, sending the apron upwards to prevent a dramatic kiss as her husband's long arms caught the doorframe and leaned toward her suggestively. Konstantinos batted away the fabric good-naturedly before lunging forward and capturing her in a backwards hug, planting a messy kiss on her neck even as Melina shrieked and their audience laughed.

"Achh! Irresistible, my foot!" she laughed, spinning to press the ridiculous wizard away with a firm shove. "Are you finished with the souvlaki? Or do I need to send Ana out there to help you?"

A pout crossed Konstantinos' face even as the witch in question suddenly appeared behind him with devilish expression upon her face. Melina crossed her arms and ignored her sister-in-law's advance.

"Would I ever fail you, my treasure? Give me five more minutes. I trust the vegetables will be finished at the same time?"

Her husband's eyebrow waggling abruptly froze as a pale hand suddenly crept over one of his shoulders, the middle finger adorned in a large ruby ring that only Ana could have favored.

"'Tinooooos… are you _sure_ you wouldn't like a helpful hand? You never have _time_ for your sister. You dishonor me!"

Melina rolled her eyes and shoved both kitchen offenders out of the space together as the siblings began a fast-paced disagreement in Greek that began to dissolve into magic on the way toward the outer terrace. The only person who could rile her sweet husband into an impromptu duel was Angeliki and she flicked the terrace doors shut with a firm hand as the telltale sound of sparks and cracks began to erupt.

Predictably, her children suddenly materialized and scampered toward the terrace.

 _"Remember what I've told you! Do **not** get in the way! Any appendages you lose will not be returned!"_ Melina yelled after them, snapping a dishtowel in displeasure even as she watched her aunt's eyebrow rise. The children yowled their replies before disappearing outside with the slamming of the door.

Melina sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before waving a hand toward the terrace.

"I blame you for this."

The second eyebrow rose as Dia fixed her with a disbelieving expression. A moment later, Yiayia swept into the kitchen, a glass of wine in each hand. She pressed one into Melina's and they clinked glasses conspiratorially.

"She's right, darling… if you would have simply taken a firm hand with them from the beginning…" Yiayia trailed off, tilting her head toward Dia expectantly.

"Dueling is a wonderful skill that all cultured witches and wizards should know," Dia replied smoothly, adjusting her robes with a flourish. "Both sets of little monsters should be pleased that they have been indoctrinated from an early age."

A glance to the right proved that Hermione was hiding a bemused smile behind her own glass of wine and Melina suddenly found herself stifling an evil grin of her own. _She can't meet the family without a bit of teasing..._

"Do you agree, Hermione?" Melina asked carefully, schooling her features into a thoughtful expression.

To her surprise and delight, the younger woman didn't miss a beat. Hermione set her glass down on the counter and fixed her with an equally considering look.

"I can't say either way," she replied easily. "Dueling promotes creative thinking and the sharpening of magical prowess, of which both skills I would say everyone in this family seems remarkably well-possessed."

The witch tilted her chin.

"As for needing a firm hand…" a small smile suddenly appeared and Hermione sent a sideways look toward her aunt. "I would say that the problem likely goes back further than Diamantina, since the unruly behavior seems to have influenced my dear master as well."

Melina's eyebrows rose up to her hairline and Yiayia's enthusiastic laughter suddenly spilled into the room, shortly joined by Melina herself as Dia took a demure sip of wine and refused to look at the young woman who was now smiling mischievously. Melina leaned forward and clinked her glass with Hermione's. _How unexpected!_

 _"Told you she was a live-wire!"_ Yiayia murmured cheerfully as Melina gave an understanding nod.

 _"I see that."_

 _"Want to wager how long it will take them to… meet their match, so to speak?"_

Melina's eyebrows rose at the innuendo as Dia's eyes flashed slightly. From the narrowing of Hermione's eyes she gathered that the young woman understood enough Greek to follow the line of their conversation but not enough to discern the specifics.

 _"Give me until the end of lunch and then I'll make a bet,"_ Melina replied smoothly, taking a satisfied sip of wine even as her aunt sent them a glare.

"You are both treading dangerous ground," Dia murmured quietly.

Hermione shifted slightly and Melina received the distinct impression that the young woman knew _exactly_ what they had been discussing. She sent her aunt a conspiratorial look.

"Oh, I don't know about that, Master… we both know they're not wrong," Hermione replied cheerfully.

A few moments later the rest of the family poured into the kitchen, slightly singed around the edges and treated to the sight of Melina and Yiayia were howling with uncontrollable laughter.

* * *

Hermione sat back, smiling absently as she listened to the overlapping conversations unfolding around the outdoor table.

She was stuffed to the brim and distantly impressed at how everyone else in the family seemed content as they refilled their plates for third and fourth helpings. Ana was one of the most voracious and Hermione blushed slightly as the older woman caught her with a haughty look. Long fingers plucked a fifth piece of spanakopita carefully and red curls were tossed as the witch turned back toward Konstantinos while taking demure bites.

The sun was quite pleasant as it streamed onto the outdoor terrace, however if it hadn't been for the Shield charms erected around them, Hermione knew that the autumn breeze would have been rather cool.

She was happy to listen and observe as the chatter continued. Beyond the Weasley family, Hermione admittedly didn't know a lot about how other Magical families tended to operate and she was both pleased and surprised by how quickly the Kefalas-Kallas-Villas family (she still didn't quite understand what to call them), had opened their doors and welcomed her. They were all so… _different_ … and everything about how the family operated was admittedly rather fascinating.

Her focus drifted toward the head of the table where Konstantinos sat, engrossed in some sort of disagreement with his sister. They had reverted to Greek though Hermione thought they might have been discussing some sort of referendum recently passed in the Hellenic Council.

Ana looked as beautiful and intimidating as always and Hermione briefly admired the way the witch's burnished curls spilled over one shoulder attractively, the unusual color highlighted by casual ivory robes patterned with gold calligraphy. Something about her sculpted features reminded Hermione of Minerva… whether it was the milky white skin or long neck, or perhaps the way her hazel eyes flashed when upset… and it seemed that Ana was frequently on the offensive.

Shifting her focus, Hermione found herself smiling automatically as she watched Konstantinos for a moment - looking completely different in bottle green robes with wavy curls no longer tamed by the slouchy grey beanie. Their session together had been mind-blowing to say the least and as Hermione shifted to cross her ankles, several muscles up the back of her legs twinged unpleasantly. _You'll have to brew a Strengthening Potion either tonight or tomorrow…_

Leaning forward, Hermione took a sip of water, letting her eyes travel along the table carefully. Master Kallas seemed as content and serene as always and she was engaged in a discussion that cut across Hermione, involving both Yiayia and Konstantino's wife, Melina.

The younger witch was harder to read though Hermione had gathered that both Melina and Konstantinos weren't too much older than Ana, which would put them in their late thirties. She was still growing used to the tradition of Magical families having children rather young, and even as she gazed at the pretty witch at the other end of the table, Hermione had difficulty imagining how Melina had already raised a ten-year old son. _She looks barely older than me!_

Melina seemed relatively easy-going, though she possessed an underlying force to which almost everyone seemed to answer to, regardless of her younger age. The witch looked remarkably similar to Master Kallas - dark skin and thick black hair, though she was short and voluptuous in a way that differed from the rest of the lithe lanky bodies situated around the table. Hermione had been curious to note that Melina possessed the same uniquely light eyes as the rest of the family and she briefly wondered whether the witch belonged one of the five Pureblood families of Athens.

"Hermione?"

Hermione blinked and sat back in surprise as the little girl across from her suddenly fixed her with a wide-eyed expression. Kyveli had been chattering non-stop since the meal began and had given little indication that she either approved or disapproved of Hermione's presence.

"Yes?"

The little face suddenly took on a look that seemed rather shy and she mumbled something quietly that Hermione couldn't quite hear over the rest of the conversations. The boy to her left sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes.

"She wants to know if you'll come upstairs after lunch to look at her room," he said clearly.

Hermione sat back slightly in surprise. While it had been clear in their short conversations earlier that both children had a fairly good grasp of English, Ioannis had seemed rather shy to speak with her. Master Kallas had helped to guide the earlier conversation and Hermione had essentially spent most of the time talking about Great Britain and how it differed from Greece.

"Of course," Hermione replied, giving the little girl a smile. _Kee-VEH-lee…_ The pronunciation was still a bit unfamiliar.

"I've only ever seen a witch's room once," she said truthfully. Suddenly both pairs of eyes were blinking at her disbelievingly and Hermione nodded in confirmation.

"Well… aside from at Hogwarts that is. I grew up in Muggle London and I never had any Magical friends growing up," she explained. "My best friends were both wizards and it wasn't until I was a bit older that I ever had a sleepover with a witch."

Kyveli's mouth opened and closed.

"You didn't know _any_ magic people?" she asked in disbelief. The Greek accent on such a young voice was rather charming.

"Nope," Hermione shook her head sadly. "I didn't know _magic_ was real until I was a year older than your brother."

Bright hazel eyes blinked.

"So… no blow-ups?" Kyveli asked sadly. Hermione sniffed and shook her head.

"Well… when I was about your age, I _did_ blow all the books off the shelves in my room once when I was upset. But my parents and I thought it was an accident," she replied, smiling softly.

Ioannis wrinkled his nose.

"That doesn't make any sense! How could you _not_ have known it was magic?" he asked imperiously. The boy pushed his plate away and folded his elbows on the table before pinning her with a doubtful expression that surprisingly reminded Hermione of Master Kallas.

She tilted her head thoughtfully.

"Well… let's see if I can explain. Your father told me that you've started to learn a little bit more about Muggle Athens," she tried, raising an eyebrow. Ioannis nodded, clearly not seeing the connection.

"Imagine that you were a Muggle who had grown up in the countryside… and you had never seen such things as subways or trains, but you had _heard_ about them. You knew enough about science to know that there were things in the world that worked for certain reasons, even if you couldn't necessarily explain them to yourself."

Ioannis nodded and looked across the table to translate for Kyveli who whispered something quietly in Greek. Hermione waited for them to finish before continuing.

"Now… imagine that you decided to take a trip into a nearby city one day. You had never seen any of these amazing things but you knew they existed. You manage to find your way to a subway stop and suddenly there is a great amount of noise. There's a big rush of wind and you stumble backwards as a big metal object comes moving toward you. Doors open and there are people inside. Is that magic?"

Ioannis frowned.

"No. It's a subway," he replied, the tone of voice suggesting it was obvious.

"But how would you _know_ it's a subway and not magic?" Hermione pressed. The frown got a little deeper.

"I would know because… because of what I had learned in school," Ioannis replied after a moment, expression suggesting that he was thinking rather hard. "Because of things I had heard from others and things that were written in books."

"Right," Hermione said with a smile. "We learn from what we already know. So… imagine yourself as me at Kyveli's age… I never grew up knowing about wands or Potions or House Elves or any of the things that we know to be magic. If the books suddenly flew off my shelves one day, what do you think I would have thought?"

Kyveli bounced on the other side of the table.

" _Ánemos! Ánemos!_ " she crowed excitedly.

Hermione gave the little witch a fond smile and nodded. "Wind. Exactly."

Ioannis was still frowning.

"My parents and I rationalized that the books flying off the shelves must have happened from a strong gust of wind. We thought it was quite odd and I was too emotional at the time to think otherwise and we ignored it. We turned to science, Ioannis, because that's all we knew."

"What's _rationalized?_ "

"To rationalize something means to think about things logically until you come to an answer," Hermione explained, briefly noting that Ana and Konstantinos were listening in curiously.

"Because I didn't know about magic, I had to _rationalize_ an answer from things that I already knew about the world. Books can't fly off the shelves without some sort of force acting upon them. Since I didn't touch them and my parents didn't touch them… we assumed that a great gust of wind had blown through my room and knocked them to the floor."

Ioannis sat back with a perplexed look on his face, clearly having difficulty accepting Hermione's answer.

"What happened when you found the magic?" Kyveli piped up curiously.

"I decided that I wanted to learn about _everything_ about it so that I wouldn't make such silly mistakes again," Hermione replied, giving the girl a grin. "Why do you think I'm studying with your theia?"

Kyveli giggled and said something in Greek around a mouthful of spanakopita which Ana promptly chided, her long fingers wrapping around brown cheeks playfully.

"Was it hard?" Ioannis asked softly. "To learn about magic?"

Pale green eyes were looking at her with a concerned expression and Hermione felt her heart soften. Ioannis seemed like an incredibly perceptive boy.

"Sometimes," she replied truthfully. "Sometimes I felt very alone… and it was hard for me to learn everything that my friends had known for their entire lives. I felt like I had a lot of work to do in comparison."

Hermione gestured to the table where the rest of the family had fallen silent, listening to their conversation with interest.

"But I feel very lucky… because there are still so many wonderful things that I don't know about magic and that continues to make my life exciting. Such as what it feels like to sit at a dinner table where everyone is Magical and know that I can use my wand whenever I need it. Or bigger questions that no one thinks about, like, what really happens when we Apparate? Or little questions, like… what a young witch's room looks like compared to a Muggle one."

She smiled down at the young boy who was looking up at her with a curious expression.

"The greatest lesson I've learned since discovering magic is that there is _always_ room for more learning," she finished, giving him a small smile.

"Hear, hear!"

They both looked up as Yiayia lifted her wine glass and the entire family followed suit, a number of pleased smiles gracing the different faces.

"Those are wise words, my son," Konstantinos said softly, giving Ioannis a small nod. The boy looked back at her and blushed.

Kyveli picked up her glass of juice enthusiastically and Ioannis smiled shyly at Hermione before picking up his own. She felt a small swell of pride as he thrust his glass forward with a firm expression.

"To learning!" he said loudly.

Hermione laughed and repeated it along with everyone else before giving the young wizard a wink as overlapping shouts of "Opa!" suddenly resounded across the terrace with gusto. Kyveli was giggling and Ioannis exchanged a smile with his father before turning back to her with another shy look.

The conversations began to start up again and Hermione noted that Master Kallas was watching her with a pleased smile. A moment later, the image was interrupted as Ioannis sat forward with hopeful green eyes.

"Will you tell me more about Hogwarts?"


	41. Chapter 40

_A/N: I'm a bit in disbelief that I'm already up to forty chapters, but there you go. I apologize for the longer delays, but I'm up to twenty-two pages of reference materials for this story and it's taking me a bit of time to plan it all out. I do so love the planning and plotting process of writing. :)_

 _To those anxiously awaiting the MM/HG arc, it will start to gather a bit more steam soon, though I do remind you it promises to be a slow burn. My goal was to create a believable set of circumstances in which Minerva would come to view Hermione as an equal and that will take a bit more development and growth for the both of them. And to those interested in the DK/HG arc, that will undoubtedly receive some quality attention soon as well._

 _Thanks always for your supportive comments and questions!_

* * *

Dia sighed as she ignited a few candles in the kitchen with an absent wave, settling in at the table and pouring herself a glass of wine.

Hermione had disappeared into the lab upon their return, citing a pressing need to work on her practical brewing skills as well as wanting to create a large batch of Strengthening Potion for the coming weeks. Dia had let her go without complaint, knowing that the witch needed a bit of time to herself following their busy day.

Lunch had been a lovely affair and Dia had been pleased at how her apprentice had conducted herself. Her family was often a challenge in themselves and Hermione had risen to the occasion admirably.

They had left just after five in the evening and everyone had been surprised when Kyveli had promptly burst into tears as she and Hermione had made their goodbyes. While it had been clear by the end of the lunch that Ioannis had been entranced by the new face, the jury had been out on the littlest witch... until she threw herself on the floor in the foyer and sobbed. It seemed the youngest member of the family had no qualms about betraying her approval and Dia had felt surprisingly grateful. Children often _were_ the greatest judges of character.

Melina had been visibly mortified by her daughter's behavior, but Hermione had paid no attention. Her apprentice had promptly knelt down and whispered a few quiet words into Kyveli's ear and both Dia and Melina had shared an incredulous look when her response was met by hiccuping sniffles, a slow process of rising from the floor, and eventually, a wavering smile.

Konstantinos had chuckled immediately and quietly mimed fervent prayers above his daughter's head begging Dia to let Hermione to stay. Even Ana had lifted her eyebrows in surprise. And if she were being entirely truthful, Dia had been rather impressed. Anyone who could circumvent a Kyveli-sized meltdown clearly had a special gift and it was made all the more endearing that Hermione remained completely unaware.

Dia shook her head and smiled, sipping her wine carefully and letting the smooth liquid soothe away the tension and sore muscles that had crept into her body after the long afternoon. It had been several months at least since she had dueled with either Konstantinos or Ana, and she knew that her body would be protesting tomorrow.

 _However... it is a practice you should revisit... especially considering the new direction your life has taken._

Dia sighed softly. The sun outside was just beginning to set though the sky remained a clear shade of blue with just the barest dusting of clouds above the horizon. There were a number of tasks to which she should have been attending, but for the moment, Dia was content to simply sit and let her mind wander. Thoughts of dueling, the Quorum, Guatemala, and the future could wait. She was still largely preoccupied by her swirling feelings regarding the events of the day.

Hermione's introduction to the family had been one of the smoothest Dia could recall in years.

Part of it, she knew, was due to her own interference. The witch had been given the advantage of meeting Yiayia and Ana prior to everyone else and they were usually the two greatest hurdles when it came to personality and dynamics. However, Dia continued to muse quietly… wondering whether Hermione's natural charm was entirely responsible for the easy meeting or if the more recent shifting in her life had created a set of unexpected consequences she hadn't foreseen.

Prior to Hermione, Dia's apprentices had always been forced to share her with the Apothecary in Thessaloniki, and while the arrangement had worked for a number of years and had been a satisfying venture for a time, it was a remarkably different experience than the one Hermione was currently receiving. As soon as Ana had stepped forward to take over the business, Dia had known that she would begin shifting into a new stage of life devoted exclusively to teaching.

While all former apprentice's of Diamantina Kallas could stand behind their claim to an excellent education with tailored curricula, personalized attention, access to non-traditional forms of study, and a wealth of networking opportunities, Hermione's apprenticeships marked a drastic departure from the more traditional arrangements she had favored in the past.

Gone were her exceedingly long days of training students in the morning, working in Thessaloniki and attending to a number of private clients, lecturing in the evenings, and brewing until the middle of the night. At one point, when she had both of the Ingersson brothers studying beneath her (in separate classifications and separate disciplines, no less), Dia had been forced to requisition a Time-Turner from the Council in order to attend to all of her duties. The arrangement had earned her a significant amount of respect and acclaim but it had taken a toll on her mentally, physically, and emotionally.

After Bjorn had moved on and Dia had been left with only Odin for a year, she swore to never make the same mistake again. Eventually, Ana had expressed her interest in the Apothecary and Dia realized she was only too happy to begin passing her business along, which had then allowed her to accept Cordelia and later Emmett for their apprenticeships. The lessened hours in Thessaloniki made the overlap palatable and it had been a relatively pleasant time.

 _Sweet Circe, has it already been two years since 'Delia left?_

Dia sniffed in disbelief. She would have to write the witch a letter.

Emmett, she knew, had moved on to a position in the Australian Bureau after finishing his second classifications in Potions with her in a single year. He was now content overseeing international trade agreements between private apothecaries and international producers somewhere in Melbourne, a second child on the way.

Other faces floated through her mind. _Penny… Kallithea… Thrynn…_

Undoubtedly, she would see a few of them at the upcoming Quorum.

Sighing softly, Dia took another sip of wine… remembering other occasions at the kitchen table with other apprentices. Studying. Conversing. Laughing.

They had each been unique and talented in their own way.

 _And then, Hermione…_

She sniffed lightly, shaking her head as she realized that she could have asked for no better opportunity than to begin her new chapter in life than with the young witch who was currently brewing downstairs.

Rationally, Dia knew that she had vetted the young woman just as intensely as she had _all_ of her previous students and that Hermione possessed all of the characteristics that she had come to expect of her apprentices: self-discipline, motivation, curiosity, and an openness to complementary ways of thinking and learning that fell beyond the realm of traditional curricula.

Whether they joined her for a year or longer, it was the expectation that all of her apprentices would devote their time on Naxos to their studies with single-minded intensity. If they were to leave with her name on their résumé, she expected nothing less than their best... and she had never failed them in return.

However Dia could not ignore how Hermione continued to present her with unpredictable challenges that she had never before encountered with past students.

From the very beginning, the witch had come forward demanding the double apprenticeship which had been startling enough in itself. Dia had only permitted it once before and that had been a complicated situation. Minerva's letter of support had surprised Dia with its effusive words as her former Mistress was nothing if not conservative, and while Dia had managed to remain impartial in her initial approach to the young woman, she had been forced to concede defeat when Hermione had risen to the challenge of her practical and theoretical assessments with such a well-rounded aptitude that Dia had almost considered sending her results to Athens for a second opinion.

It had been clear that Transfiguration was her favored discipline, but Hermione had argued after Potions with such veracity in the interview portion of their meeting that Dia could not fault her decision. The remainder of the witch's trial week on Naxos had proven Hermione's sincerity and insatiable curiosity and by the end of the week Dia had been cautiously optimistic that the witch could very well claim the title of youngest Senior Master in both Societies, (if she could overturn her tendencies for linear if-then thinking, her fear of failure, and her remarkably well-developed sense of insecurity, that was... but then, that was Dia's job.)

Dia chuckled softly, recalling those first few months as Hermione had absorbed her new schedule with nearly manic enthusiasm.

The witch had nearly fainted upon seeing the Library, though she hadn't been the first to express such a reaction. Dia _had_ been surprised however when two solid weeks had passed in which she had known for certain that Hermione had slept in the Library every single night... and while Stelios had informed her that her apprentice had likely slept no more than four hours each time, the witch had still seen to her studies with such fervent discipline that Dia would never have known. (Dia had been pleased when that phase had concluded naturally without need for an intervention.)

And then of course there had been the effects War.

Her thumb rubbed the rim of her glass absently as Dia recalled the early reports she had received from Eleni and Stelios. Hermione had suffered from nightmares for months upon arriving to Naxos and at one point, Dia had briefly considered slipping the witch a specific Calming Draught with her dinner when they had interrupted the young woman's sleep for the tenth night in a row. Eventually the terrors had grown more infrequent, though even now, Dia could expect to be woken at least twice a month... though unlike Cordelia, Bjorn, or even Ana, Hermione had refused every opportunity to talk with her about them.

That alone had made Dia nervous.

 _Actually, the last week has told you more about Hermione's involvement in the War than the majority of the past several months..._

Her cheeks flushed lightly as she recalled their conversation in her bedroom when Dia had learned that Antonin Dolohov had raised his wand against her apprentice. The silvery scar running across the witch's torso had been shocking.

Minerva's initial letter had hinted that Hermione had suffered during the War in Great Britain, and of course Dia had seen a number of articles in _The Prophet_ over the past several years mentioning the witch's name... but somehow she had always imagined that someone so young and innocent would have remained along the sidelines.

"Though, you _are_ speaking of Hermione Granger," Dia murmured softly, smiling as she shook her head.

The witch had never been one to absorb her lessons sitting down. Hermione wanted to immerse herself in every experience... it was one of the primary reasons why Dia had accepted the witch to both apprenticeships so readily. And why war would have been any different, Dia couldn't imagine... though her heart ached for what the young woman had already suffered.

Dia took another sip of wine, her thoughts slipping into a hazy fog of questions as she considered again that Hermione was likely her most mysterious and unpredictable apprentice to date.

A large part of her was thrilled by the challenge and Dia knew that she would have to do a better in the coming months to unravel that emotional response. Hermione was still young in several ways.

If she was to keep the witch safe, she couldn't indulge the woman's every desire.

The subtle innuendo made her flush and Dia wet her lips, abruptly pressing away the more colorful thoughts that arose as she recalled Hermione's latest request.

 _She has not been the first apprentice to ask for that concession to your relationship..._

Dia frowned, suddenly realizing that she had yet to touch upon the most significant condition of her relationship to Hermione.

 _She **is** the first apprentice with whom you will formally bond._

The renegotiation of their contract already spoke volumes regarding Hermione's personality and agenda, and as Dia began to consider the witch with a bit more objectivity, she realized that she was growing nervous.

It didn't matter that Hermione had essentially forced her into the formal bond. Deep down, Dia knew that she would have eventually agreed if the witch had simply asked.

And that simple fact was what made her truly unique.

Of all eight of her previous apprentices, there was only one with whom Dia could have imagined herself entering into such an agreement. And even then, she knew she would have had a significant number of misgivings.

 _However Thrynn would have never have asked you... And Hermione merely had to open her mouth and you conceded the point in a single evening._

A deep sense of foreboding settled into Dia's stomach and she grew still. How had she not seen it earlier?

The witch was unique. And while that was indeed something to be celebrated, it was also cause for concern.

Dia's eyes slanted closed as she drained her glass of wine, letting the last notes of the deep crimson liquid slowly slide across her tongue as she thought deeper.

A great amount of Hermione's life had been shaped by her experiences and involvement in the last War against Voldemort, however unlike Dia herself, those experiences had left the witch wanting to _improve_ the world and engage with it in a way that none of her prior apprentices had shared. Hermione possessed a deep-seated capacity for selflessness that was arresting in its authenticity.

 _An admirable quality to be certain… but a dangerous one as well…_

There was also a matter of the witch's insatiable mind.

Dia would never disclaim the importance of curiosity. It was a gift to possess a zeal for learning such as Hermione did… however it could also become a burden. There was simply no way to _unlearn_ sensitive information once discovered.

 _And already her theses are beginning to touch upon the secrets of both disciplines…_

Moreover, the witch's insistence on using her knowledge to better society was again excellent… but without the proper tools, it would easily make her a target.

Dia took a slow breath, her eyes raking over the familiar surroundings carefully, assuring herself that she was indeed present and that the future had not yet gotten away from her. A thought floated through her mind and Dia watched dispassionately as she splayed one dark hand against the lighter wood of the table…

 _You have grown too close to her._

Briefly, she felt a flash of irritation which only seemed to underscore the sobering thought.

 _In the last week you have gone from pushing forward her theses in order to pass along information that will help her survive… to agreeing to a contract that will threaten her life. All because you are flattered by her interest._

Each finger tapped the table slowly.

 _Don't deny your own desire plays a large role as well… how long has it been since Cordelia?_

Dia's jaw worked and she exhaled air slowly through her nose, the stone growing heavier the depths of her stomach even as her anger flared toward her own foolishness. Moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes.

Careless. She had been careless.

The hand curled into a fist.

 _Do your job as her Master. And leave your own needs and desires by the wayside._

Outside, the sun had deepened into a shade of blazing red and the waves below rippled with crimson highlights. The shadows had begun to creep into the peaceful ambiance of the kitchen and Dia remained still, trying to will the unexpected wave of emotions back into submission.

Hermione had blindsided her completely with her staggering intelligence, fervent curiosity, wounded past, earnest hopes and desires... and all of those facets together suddenly crafted the most dangerous combination Dia could fathom.

"You would do to remember your place, Diamantina Kallas," she whispered. "You do not belong to her world."

* * *

Hermione sighed loudly as the last of her materials floated back into their respective places. Summoning a stool from one side of the lab, she sat heavily, pulling forward a small blue bottle and quaffing the contents quickly.

For a moment she was content to sit with eyes closed, allowing the potion to spread along her system like a reassuring wave - soothing tired muscles and aching joints before warming her from within. Eventually the final burst of added replenishing elements hit her and Hermione sat up a bit straighter, opening her eyes and as she took a deep breath and tugged her books forward.

To say that she was simply 'tired' would have been an understatement of great proportions.

The day had begun early with the news of Sturgis Podmore from Minerva and while her heart still ached for the loss to the Order's ranks, Hermione felt slightly guilty as she realized that the subsequent events of the day had tempered her sadness and a large part of her had already accepted it. Frowning slightly, she let her fingertips slide off of the battered copy of _The Brewer's Art: Ten Thousand Ingredients and Their Properties_ , disturbed by her sudden lack of empathy.

 _How can you be so blasé? You_ _ **knew**_ _Sturgis!_

As her exhausted mind shuttled through old memories from Grimmauld Place and Order gatherings, Hermione was forced to accept the simple fact that she _didn't_ know Sturgis Podmore very well. The tall blonde wizard had been a jovial man. He and Kingsley Shacklebolt had usually arrived and departed together and their typical joking asides had indicated the two were quite close. But beyond seeing him in passing and sharing a few meals over the last few years of the War, Hermione couldn't recall a single instance of having spoken with the wizard one-on-one.

Inwardly, she winced as she considered _who_ would be broken up about the man's death… likely the Weasley's and the other Aurors - Gawain, Hestia, and the one she didn't yet know - _Wickleffe_. Undoubtedly Minerva would be affected... and perhaps a few of the other Hogwarts professors. Master Kallas had known the wizard, though not well as she indicated her departure from Great Britain had come soon after the wizard had joined the Order. _Oh, and Kingsley…_

Hermione's heart sank as she considered Kingsley's role in everything. The Minister's withdrawal from Order meetings likely meant that he would be unable to look into matters with greater vehemence without betraying suspicious circumstances or the Order itself. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that Sturgis' supposed "accident" had been related to some sort of undercover surveillance or investigation on the Orders' behalf, which also didn't bode well for general safety.

Unfortunately, from the pulse of public opinion since Kingsley had taken office, Hermione knew that any rumors regarding unsavory events happening beneath their so-recently-vetted Ministry's watch would not only incite anger, but a good deal of panic. Which meant that Kingsley would likely be unwilling or unable to help with any further investigation.

 _Merlin, I hope I am never in such a position where I would have to disregard my own friends…_

Hermione sighed again, flipping her encyclopedia open to the creased indices, abruptly wishing she were home so that she would have the opportunity to ask questions and get a better handle on the unfolding events. The boys would likely be at The Burrow getting chance to talk things over with other Order members while she would have to wait to hear any news through Master Kallas. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

 _You must think of a better means of remaining informed…_

Her fingers flipped a few more pages absently, but her mind wasn't in the mood to work on her Potions thesis.

Groaning slightly, Hermione scrubbed her hands over her face, grimacing as they encountered a bit of salt and oil from having spent the last hour sweating over the double batch of Strengthening Potion that now sat in perfectly arranged blue bottles to her left. There had simply been too many things happening in the last week and it was just now beginning to dawn upon her that she hadn't had time to think through everything critically nor to consider just how harrowing the coming weeks would be.

Sniffing, Hermione shook her head, thinking to the previous Sunday and how her most pressing concern had been what to do regarding her undeniable attraction to her master and the unexpected discovery that both of her previous mentors were gay.

 _How far you have come… going from being red-faced and stuttering at the thought of thinking about Master Kall-_ _ **Diamantina**_ _and Minerva together, to propositioning the woman and roping her into a formal bonding contract._

"This entire week has been absurd," Hermione whispered quietly, chuckling softly in disbelief as she rose to standing and stretched her sore muscles.

Looking around the familiar lab with its rough stone walls and twinkling bits of quartz, she wet her lips and realized that even the intimidating prospect of turning in her theses early seemed to pale in comparison to all that had transpired.

The upcoming Quorum in Atlantis was less than two weeks away and while Hermione was distantly concerned about how that event would unfold, she found that her thoughts kept returning to the Order, to Yiayia's unexpected proposition a few days prior, and to her growing list of preparations and goals as she considered the future's stormy horizon.

Deciding that her circling thoughts were going to go nowhere if she didn't get them out on paper, Hermione summoned a stray parchment and her writing utensils.

List-making, schedules, and planning were one of her most satisfying methods of working through her thoughts. It had driven Ron and Harry crazy on more than one occasion, but Hermione knew they were therapeutic tasks that helped her re-focus and learn to see individual situations and abstract events with greater clarity.

 _You're going to have to find a more secure method for this eventually…_

Frowning, Hermione started by considering that small conundrum. Twisting her lips she began writing, already generating a number of ideas that might prove useful.

 _1\. Create a secure method for writing down stray thoughts and information. Take inspiration from Tom Riddle's diary? Or the Marauder's Map?_

While creating a Horcrux was by no means a part of her agenda, Hermione had been fascinated after the entire Chamber of Secrets debacle for the sheer ingenuity required to create an interactive, secure journal of sorts. She didn't need it to respond in the method that Voldemort had used with Ginny, but she _did_ need a means of keeping her secrets confidential from prying eyes while she worked through her own research and theories. The Marauder's Map worked similarly and Hermione briefly wondered if it would be possible to unravel the Charms upon it the next time she saw the boys.

Sniffing wryly, Hermione also imagined it would be prudent to document everything for posterity on the off chance something were to go wrong and a written account of events would somehow be required.

 _Maybe you should consider Ancient Runes… or another series of glyphs that you can use for disguise?_

Another lightbulb went off and she bit her lip before scribbling furiously.

 _2\. Find a secure method for communicating with the Order (same inspiration as above?)_

While rationally, Hermione understood that there would be little action that she or Master Kallas could undertake while remaining on Naxos, it would still ease her conscience if she could at least remain apprised of events as they unfolded in Great Britain. She knew that Harry and Ron would likely be willing to help on that front, and while the significant task of apologizing to them still remained, Hermione remained hopeful that they would be open to working through problems together as they had during Hogwarts.

 _And in order for that to happen, you need to be able to communicate with each other..._

Her brow furrowed again as she considered the other, more dominant part of her life. While her heart continued to tug her toward embracing familiar friends and faces from home, she had a duty to her current circumstances. And most importantly, to the witch who had so recently up-ended her entire life to accommodate Hermione's demands.

 _3\. Learn more about Master Kallas' involvement during the First War and the reasons behind her departure._

Hermione sighed and tried not to feel guilty about adding that particular task to her list. A good amount of her reasoning was simple curiosity… but something inside her rankled at how hesitant her master had been about rejoining the organization from the very beginning.

The witch hadn't seemed reluctant in offering her assistance - on the contrary, she had gone above and beyond the call for potions when their Society had requisitioned aid on behalf of the ISOS violations (Hermione had seen the outline they had been sent and how the witch had added a number of additional brews and provisions that had significantly depleted their stores in order to provide the maximum impact).

And she hadn't shied away from gathering information nor creating her own theories about the perpetrators and their motives, which suggested that she already planned to work against them. And then of course, Hermione had been rather shocked when Master Kallas had stepped forward to volunteer her own wand for the reconnaissance mission in Guatemala.

"It's never been that she doesn't wish to help out…" Hermione whispered softly, her heart sinking a bit as she bit the end of her quill. "It's the Order itself she has a problem with… or perhaps the people within it."

Hermione frowned and put a star next to the third line. She was surprised that it had taken her so long to come to that conclusion.

 _She even said it herself…_ Hermione thought back to the discussion they had held in the witch's chambers after the Order meeting. She had been so emotional about the decision whether or not to rejoin and worried about forcing her master's hand that she hadn't had the opportunity to truly _hear_ the witch's words.

The musical voice floated through her mind, the tone firm. ' _It is not about wanting to withhold information from anyone. It is about sharing the pieces that are important to a given situation and keeping all of my cards in a place where I can see them and maintain a measure of control.'_

Minerva had hinted at something terrible having transpired toward the end of the First War that had cost Master Kallas members of her family, but that didn't account for everything. The witch seemed almost paranoid that the Order would rope either her or Hermione into circumstances beyond their control and that seemed to be the biggest crux of it.

"Something happened that caused her to lose trust in others…" Hermione whispered, thinking hard. Master Kallas even seemed reluctant to put her faith in Minerva, which seemed a bit out of character. _But she still trusts her family…_

"And me…"

Hermione bit her lip, flushing slightly and wondering if she would betray that trust by investigating such matters further. _Although you can honor her as an apprentice if you understand her better…_

Honor. It was a word that Master Kallas used infrequently but one that Hermione had heard the witch repeat several times in their conversations over the last several days. Each time it had filled her with a warmth from within… knowing that the witch truly appreciated her fealty in asking for a formal bond and in asking for her assistance in learning about her own body and its desires. It felt powerful to be spoken to as an adult, despite the inherent innocence she had revealed in asking for both. Hermione knew that her master was not one to speak lightly and she was assured that the witch had understood her feelings and motivations.

However 'honor' was also a word that Hermione associated with Slytherins and Pure-bloods… and one that she knew held far greater connotations for Master Kallas than perhaps even she herself realized. Honor was something used to describe respect and privilege, yes… but also used to reference ways of behaving, acting, and believing. _You do her an honor by asking for a formal bond as it speaks to her expertise as a master and the fact that you trust her enough with your own life… but you don't know how far that word extends in her expectations of you.  
_

As progressive and unorthodox as Master Kallas was when it came to her studies and training, Hermione also inherently knew that the witch would place "honor" and "loyalty" into the same metaphorical cauldron. The witch had made it clear from the very beginning of their contract that she would provide Hermione with all of the necessary skills, information, methodologies, and tools to succeed in both apprenticeships, but that in return she expected nothing but Hermione's absolute best.

It was difficult to pinpoint the exact moment that Hermione had truly realized what an opportunity she had been given... but she had also inherently known that to flout those expectations and that relationship would be tantamount to destroying her career, number one. She had no doubt that Master Kallas could easily tarnish her reputation throughout all of the Societies if she so desired... but more importantly, it would destroy the witch's opinion of her and bring them _both_ dishonor... and _that_ was something Hermione knew that she couldn't live with.

Which brought about her current predicament.

Hermione doodled on the bottom corner of the parchment for a moment as her shoulders fell slightly, wondering if perhaps she had gotten herself in a bit over her head.

"But you can't regret asking for a measure that will protect the both of you," she whispered softly, pressing her lips together even as a wave of emotion flooded through her. A formal bond was the only power she had at the moment.

The thought of something happening to Master Kallas was almost as unfathomable as something happening to Minerva or Professor Flitwick or Yiayia. Hermione knew that the witch was more than capable. She had demonstrated that to full effect before Hermione that very morning...

 _But Dumbledore was killed when no one said it was a possibility… and so was Severus Snape._

Hermione blinked back tears at the thought of coming upon her master's broken body in the same manner as she had seen Dumbledore or Snape. Their relationship to the Order was already dangerous, but her master had insisted upon provisions that would leave her able to operate around that commitment. Which likely meant that the witch wasn't above putting herself in danger in other ways... and Hermione wasn't willing to let her master take those risks without a safety net.

Her vision swam and suddenly Hermione had a vision of the witch falling from the Astronomy tower, framed in unearthly green light, her royal blue robes catching the cold starlight as they blossomed around her...

 _NO!_

"Even if you are bound to her… the alternative is unacceptable," Hermione hissed, wiping her eyes angrily with a firm hand and underlining the third line again.

The witch was too cunning for her own good and thinking of Dumbledore and Snape brought back her own conviction for having asked for the formal bond the first place. Hermione wouldn't put it past the woman to wrap herself into some sort of complicated arrangement that would put her life in danger. While she knew that she was essentially shackling herself to the witch's fate, Hermione simply felt better for it.

"She needs to know that she doesn't have to do everything alone anymore," Hermione said softly, ignoring another tear that trickled down her cheek. _And maybe you can help her mend whatever bridges were burnt…_

She lifted the hem of one sleeve and wiped her face carefully, feeling a new wave of determination at the thought. _She_ knew the other members of the Order and yes, while there were likely a number of personalities that would chafe at her master's uncompromising and secretive methods, Hermione simply felt that there was a way to draw both of her worlds together in a manner that would make all of them stronger.

"And maybe everyone at home can learn something too," she muttered, picking up her quill and writing down two more lines as they came to her.

 _4\. Become more adept at dueling… (and creative about it)_

 _5\. Learn how to compel others… and be less obvious._

The Order was already full of Gryffindor courage and pig-headedness. They didn't need any more of it. In fact, Hermione already knew that she could best help balance the organization if she were better able to mediate the myriad of perspectives that lay between her master's and the rest of the lion pride.

Yiayia and Konstantinos were two examples of people from whom Hermione knew she could learn a great deal. And as much as it would be easier to rely on her Gryffindor-ish habits, she had already learned that there were other methods of gathering information and working through problems than by simply improvising spur-of-the-moment or by blasting down the door.

Hermione shifted for a moment, twisting her wrists to relieve the tension and cramps that had begun to sneak into her tired muscles. Konstantinos had proven that her Gryffindor fire could be enhanced if she could simply learn to think outside of the box, look at her opponents through a combination of rational assessment and intuition, and strengthen her body and arsenal of offensive spells.

Her mind quickly flashed back to the demonstration he had given her that morning.

The first part had been impressive enough - Konstantinos and Master Kallas had exchanged roles during their warm-up (Hermione had thought it was a bit more involved than "just" a warm-up), going through two rounds of something the wizard had dubbed "target practice." One of them had picked a stable spot and fired off a series of offensive spells toward the other who had free reign to move through the gym and either parry, create a stable defensive position, or engage.

The point was that the person evading had the opportunity to think a little bit more clearly - planning their responses around the environment, using it to their advantage, and getting a chance to test their physical response time, while the person standing had the opportunity to work on precision and had to become adept at dodging without moving from their spot.

Hermione had been floored by how quickly both Konstantinos and Master Kallas had been able to respond to their opponent in both roles. Both of them had possessed the same sort of feline grace that was almost inhuman in its fluidity. Several times, Hermione had closed her eyes - certain that a flash of light had spelled their defeat, but had been surprised each time to see them either still standing or in a completely new location that had surprised her.

Shifting on her stool, Hermione shook her head, still in disbelief that she would be learning some of those same skills in the coming weeks and months.

She summoned another stool and put her legs up, groaning softly as she felt her legs stretch in response. _It seems there's only so much you can do for a workout as intense as the one you experienced this morning..._

The thought brought little comfort.

After "target practice," her master had dueled Konstantinos in earnest. Even the memory flooded her with adrenaline, and Hermione felt her heart speed up as she recalled snatches of the amazing experience.

 _She was standing with one hand pressed against the wall, the other clutching her wand in an unconscious response to the unfolding battle happening before her. Overhead the fluorescent lights were flickering feebly._

 _Her ears were ringing with the loud crackle of active magic and a moment later, Hermione was shielding her eyes as two spells collided, the shockwave blowing several mats free of their neon surfaces._

 _Master Kallas was running and she could see dark muscles rippling as the witch launched herself off the top of a raised staircase, somersaulting midair to avoid a blue flash before landing briefly and firing off two rapid spells in succession as she rolled away, causing the metal railing that her nephew had just grabbed to flush red with heat, a loud stream of curse words echoing through the space._

 _Hermione flinched as Konstantinos bolted forward and was suddenly lifted mid-air by an invisible hand, his legs working uselessly for a moment before there was another loud crack and he spun horizontally to the ground, suddenly generating a spread of vicious looking arrows, one undoubtedly meeting its mark as she heard a frustrated curse from her master._

 _The arrows melted suddenly, warping into a silvery substance that pursued Konstantinos as he landed in a roll and fired off several spells that dissolved what would have manifested into a metal cage had it not evaporated into smoke. A moment later he was swinging over another railing, shooting a spell that her master parried effortlessly, before conjuring several bursts of fire that sped toward the witch with deadly speed._

 _Her master evaded the first four, barely moving from her crouched stance before the fifth tripped her and she fell back. Hermione gasped as the witch flattened herself to the floor, narrowly avoiding one that zipped past her ear and ignited a wall behind her in red flames. As Konstantinos sent another, she held up a hand and Hermione watched open mouthed as the fireball halted a few inches from meeting its mark, the witch's face contorting with effort as it vibrated and grew brighter, growing upwards into a vertical wall of flame that abruptly flew backwards, igniting two platforms as it sped toward the younger wizard with a terrible rumbling sound that Hermione could feel in her chest._

 _She squeezed her eyes shut with a shriek, assured that the wizard had been vaporized, but the sound of active crackling energy forced to her open them again. The far side of the gym was blackened and a number of structures had caught fire, but Konstantinos had somehow survived and was flattened against a corner, his body visibly smoking as he sent a number of purple bolts toward his aunt that could have only been hexes._

 _Master Kallas shouted something in Greek as she vaulted over a square platform and ricocheted off the left wall with a foot before sliding down an angled slope on one hip, slashing her arm to parry a flash of red. Sweat was streaming down her body, causing her skin to glisten, and Hermione flinched as the witch was unexpectedly disarmed as she rolled to the floor and was forced to dodge a small explosion._

 _Hermione's breath caught and she found herself stepping forward even as the witch recovered and stood defiantly, a fierce expression on her face as she barely moved and dodged spell after spell that Konstantinos sent her way. Her full lips were moving and Hermione realized that the witch was still working._

" _Sweet Merlin…"_

 _Her whisper was lost in a loud rumble._

 _Suddenly, there a great ripple passed through the floor and Konstantinos stumbled forward as the structures around him began collapsing, forcing him to move directly into the path of the mats that undulated toward him in a furious roar, snapping free from the metal and wood beneath. Foam, splintered wood and metal began swirling together, lifting the wizard a few meters from the floor as the lights above flickered and finally went out._

 _Red light suddenly filled the space as the ghostly mess grew larger and began to spin around Konstantinos more quickly, filling in the space around him until he was barely visible, still struggling within the terrible whirlwind. Flames continued to flicker in the background and Hermione could hear the dark tones of her master's voice continuing to spit forth unfamiliar guttural language that made her hair stand on end._

 _Hermione's eyes widened as she saw several flashes from within the tornado that blew a few materials away, but it continued growing with a roar, crackling with red sparks as her own hair whipped around her face. An unearthly yell came from within as the cyclone flew back…_

 _And a moment later it was over._

 _Illuminated by the flaming remnants of the gym, Hermione saw that Konstantinos was pressed against the far wall, hands around his throat as he audibly choked, his eyes rolling back slightly as his legs struggled futilely against an invisible hand. Hermione's own hand flew to her mouth before the wizard abruptly fell to the floor as Master Kallas waved a hand, her own chest heaving._

 _She remained frozen, both terrified by the display and concerned as the wizard remained crouched over for a long moment. A moment later she was surprised to hear laughter and a few choice curse words._

 _Master Kallas eventually walked moved forward, gracefully avoiding the skeletal remnants of a few smouldering structures as she extended a hand toward her nephew and helped him to his feet._

 _Hermione had exhaled slowly, her mind still attempting to process everything that had transpired as the witch summoned her wand and they began repairing the damage with rapid efficiency that was almost as inspired as their duel. Her jaw had worked for a moment before she stepped forward to help out, surprised to hear the murmured compliments and joking conversation between the slightly singed pair, as though nothing had happened._

 _As soon as the lights came back on, the duo began walking toward her, still chuckling over something as her master gestured tiredly._

" _So? You impressed yet?" Konstantinos called with a large smile, smacking a loose arm around his aunt's shoulders in a heavy manner that made the witch glare up at him disapprovingly._

 _Hermione's mouth opened and closed to no avail and the wizard had laughed loudly, tossing his head back even as Master Kallas sent her a rather smug smile._

" _And_ _ **that**_ _was without the Animagi wildcard," Konstantinos chuckled, wiping his sweaty face with a corner of his black tank top. Hermione's eyes flicked away from the chiseled abdominals beneath, blinking as she considered that added aside. At this point, she couldn't even fathom what such a duel would look like if one added Animagi to the equation._

 _She wet her lips for a moment, trying to think of a question that could encompass all of the other ones that were running through her mind._

" _Is… was all of that_ _ **legal**_ _?"_

Hermione scrubbed a hand over her face as she recalled the echoing laughter from both her master and her nephew. Her cheeks had flushed immediately and it had taken another twenty minutes for her to ask all of the questions that she could think of before she had been assured that they had avoided a majority of Dark magic. It remained unspoken, however, that neither Konstantinos nor Master Kallas appeared to object to adding in those elements in a later stage of her training.

Blinking to clear her mind, Hermione bit the edge of her quill and added an addendum to Number Four:

 _4\. Become more adept at dueling… (and get creative about it)_

 _* Research the Dark Arts… and offensive spells._

Time had taught her that violence was still most definitely a last resort, but that defensive spells could do little to disarm an opponent who possessed a larger arsenal of violent enchantments at their disposal. While her stomach and heart still turned at the thought of taking a life, Hermione knew that in times of War, drastic measures were sometimes needed… and she was no longer ridiculously naïve enough to think that her enemies would simply capture her or turn her free if she didn't seem to be a viable threat.

"Besides… you're an adult witch," Hermione said softly, frowning as she considered her own precisely written penmanship. A terrible goal reduced into seven simple words - that's what the world had taught her.

"No one is going to think twice about Avada-ing you if you're in the wrong place at the wrong time."

If Antonin Dolohov was on their list of suspects, Hermione knew better than to think she would be dealing with rational people. Any wizard who was ruthless enough to slice open a teenaged girl across the chest without thinking twice was certainly ruthless enough to kill her in cold blood. She would have to be completely daft to imagine she could duel such a man with defensive spells only.

Hermione shuddered softly at the implications, but her resolve remained firm. Knowledge was power and she wanted to be powerful enough to protect her loved ones from harm even if it meant fighting fire with fire.

 _Speaking of Dolohov…_

 _6\. Research the three current suspects: Antonin Dolohov, Elizabeth Waterhouse, and Petrus D'Artagnan._

 _7\. Learn more about Yiayia and Theodotus Ambrozaitys.  
* What was he working on before the Sagrada Familia?  
* How did the Guild assist in the First War? Where were they this time?_

 _8\. Research Neuromancy and Necromancy._

Hermione recrossed her legs, rubbing one quad absently as she mused over the new points on her list.

She already knew what Dolohov was capable of and Hermione bore no doubts that the man would have already managed to find his way to some other nexus of evil. While she didn't relish the thought of researching him, she knew that looking into his family history and past involvement in Great Britain would perhaps offer clues into his profile and behavior patterns.

 _And the next time you duel him, **you** can be the one to leave the scar…_

The dark thought brought an uncharacteristic flush of pleasure before Hermione abruptly quashed it, shaking her head even as she considered the other two names on the list.

Master Kallas was going to be departing shortly to learn more about the witch who had been written about in the French newspaper. Now that her original curiosity and leap of intuition had been substantiated and Hermione felt a brief flash of guilt as she realized that she was content to wait until her master did her own research on Elizabeth Waterhouse.

The third wizard however _did_ hold a spark of interest. Petrus D'Artagnan was nothing but a name on a page to her at the moment, but Hermione felt a deep thrill at knowing the wizard had once been an apprentice to Minerva and that he had somehow failed her…

Her own curiosity had been piqued and somehow Hermione knew that her fascination went beyond the realm of morbid curiosity into someplace much more personal. Deep down, she knew that the only reason she was interested in Petrus D'Artagnan was because of his past connection to her former mentor. A large part of her hoped that in the process of her research, Hermione would manage to uncover more information about the mysterious Minerva McGonagall herself.

"Besides… he's tied to you now just as much as he is Master Kallas," Hermione murmured. "You should know the complete history of your own Family."

Society traditions demanded an apprentice learn and honor the "genealogy" of their own Mastery and lines of connection, much like an actual family tree. Every Master belonged to a Family and there were many traditions and rules that governed etiquette and behavior whenever one interacted or spoke with or even _of_ a Family member. Admittedly, it would also be part of her research as she prepared for the Quorum and Hermione briefly tried to rationalize that she should learn about the dismissed sibling of her master lest she make some sort of unformed misstep.

Technically, Minerva was considered her Eminent Mistress since her guidance at Hogwarts could not be counted as an official duty to the Society. The added title was bestowed upon the witch or wizard who had trained one's own master, and a good amount of reverence was given to the role. Therefore Hermione was already bound to uphold the witch's dismissal of Petrus D'Artagnan - though she hardly imagined Minerva would have come to such a decision lightly.

Still, while she had no trouble respecting the witch, Hermione still wanted to know what had transpired. Frowning slightly, she already knew that Master Kallas would likely be unwilling to divulge the story (if she knew the details), on account of respecting her Mistress' honor.

 _There it is again. That word…_ _ **honor**_ _._

Hermione shook her head softly and withdrew her wand to tidy the workbench. A few careful flicks packaged the bottles of Strengthening Potion and carefully packed them into a small wooden crate that would protect them in the adjacent cellar. Waving them away, she closed her books and banished them to her room, already knowing that her research was concluded for the day.

She stood slowly, feeling her dull muscles protest even as she extinguished the sconces along the walls. The smaller candles still flickered quietly, the flames blinking in a friendly manner despite the rather imposing shadow that had fallen across the entire lab. Hermione sighed and picked up her quill and parchment, rolling it carefully as she swept her eyes around the room.

There was no sound save for the quiet running of water that trickled along glistening rocks. The small spring of freshwater was one of her favorite features of the lab and Hermione floated over toward it, tucking her materials under one arm as she moved to bend down and splash some of the cold liquid over her face from the rocky pool that lined the curve of the wall next to the storage room.

The fresh bite made her shiver and she pressed her wet hands to the back of her neck, wincing slightly as her fingers uncovered more tension lingering there. She untied her dragonhide apron carefully and banished it to its customary hook near the doors before tucking her materials into the inner pocket of her robes.

"You made your brew… and now you have to drink it," Hermione whispered to herself.

She ignored the slight twinge of worry regarding the seventh point she had just written on her list as she trudged back toward the heavy gilded doors of the lab and pulled them open with a flourish.

The wave of warmer air from above was sweet with the familiar scents of the villa and Hermione turned to extinguish the remaining candles before flicking her wand to close the heavy doors.

 _The agreement you made with Yiayia will surely come into conflict with your duties to Master Kallas. You should draw a separate contact just in case…_

Yes. That was perhaps a more prudent option she could live with.

Hermione ascended the stairs slowly, unbraiding her hair as she went, sighing in relief as it fell about her shoulders.

A quick glance around the villa indicated that her master must have retired to her chambers for the evening and Hermione was briefly grateful from the reprieve. There were too many dark thoughts passing through her mind and she didn't need a reminder of the witch's presence quite yet.

A pass through the kitchen landed her with a clementine which she unpeeled the Muggle way as she drifted back toward her own rooms.

Yiayia's proposal had come as a complete surprise, though Hermione would have been lying to say she wasn't a bit excited.

Master Kallas had informed her that she intended to depart for Guatemala in exactly one week, wanting to accomplish her mission before the Quorum, which would leave Hermione beneath the combined charge of Yiayia and Ana for approximately two days while she was away. Yiayia had been quick to jump forward with her niece's departure - proposing Hermione with an exchange of sorts. Yiayia would bring Hermione to see Harry and Ron if Hermione promised to accompany her to Paris on a reconnaissance mission of their own.

The witch had explained little regarding her friend's research prior to his work at the Sagrada Familia, however Hermione had been quick to deduce that it was most definitely a Guild secret (she felt a thrill at that), and it most definitely involved some relationship to Necromancy.

While her working knowledge of Necromancy was more than lacking, Hermione was briefly thankful that she hadn't grown up in the Magical world otherwise she intuitively knew that she would likely harbor several preconceptions about the mysterious discipline.

While the alternative names were rather suggestive - "Death Magic" or "Soul Magic" - and deterring indeed, Hermione was quickly learning that not everything was what it seemed... and if it was a practice that continued to be sanctioned by the ICW (if Yiayia's aside was to believed), then either it was simply misunderstood by the general public... or an extraordinarily powerful branch of magic that could not be diminished.

Either way, Hermione had felt a dark thrill at the mystery and was more than eager to learn more about it... and to potentially uncover additional information that could help the Order.

Neuromancy was compelling as well and Hermione couldn't help wonder why she had never come across any mention of it in her studies. _Perhaps it's newer... or so challenging that no one has written about it..._

Another mystery that bore careful research.

Hermione locked her room upon arriving, igniting a few candles and pulling out her parchment. The sweet taste of citrus flooded her mouth as she considered the seventh point again.

 _A contract is important... ensuring that your responsibility is to Master Kallas first... then to the Order... and then to Yiayia's side investigation._

Hermione frowned as she wondered how to conceal the phrasing of her demands. Undoubtedly the Kefalas matriarch would see through her request, but Hermione was more preoccupied with either Master Kallas or Minerva finding out...

 _You need to think of a method that will protect yourself from all three and leave you free to disseminate information as you wish._

Something about the thought seemed familiar... and then a dark shadow crossed her mind as Hermione swallowed, the sweet flavor of clementine suddenly registering as sour upon her tongue.

"You are nothing like Severus Snape," she whispered. A shiver ran down her spine.

No. She wasn't.

Snape had made the mistake of tying himself to two masters with conflicting interests. Hermione was simply negotiating three separate agendas on the same side.

"Surely that will be easier to manager," she said softly.

However, despite the quiet words, a furrow settled between her brows and Hermione worked to dispel the uneasy feeling that suddenly spread through her.

Another thought came to her and she pulled out her quill and moved to the desk near the window where all of her books were neatly piled.

 _9\. Learn Occlumency... and Legilimency if possible._

If she was going to be successful at half of her goals, Hermione needed a surefire means of keeping her own counsel to herself. Her research, words, and communication were only as safe as she was skilled.

Dueling would keep her physical body safe, but what about her mind?

Wiping her fingers on her robe absently, Hermione couldn't help but think that her life had suddenly grown far more complicated than she could have ever anticipated.


	42. Chapter 41

_A/N: All right, speeding things up a little bit over the next two chapters. For ease of understanding, we're going to zip through this "week" and I've separated events by date.  
_

 _Reviews and feedback are always appreciated!_

* * *

 **Monday, Nov. 22, 1999**

The Great Hall was relatively quiet and Minerva surmised that it had a good deal to do with the fresh dusting of snow outside. She had passed a number of fourth years engaged in a snowball fight on her way past the Viaduct Courtyard, and while a stern glance and raised eyebrow had been met with sheepish expressions, the simple sight had felt like a balm to her battered heart.

The day had passed smoothly and for that she was incredibly grateful. There hadn't been time nor opportunity to recover from the terrible events of the past weekend and while Minerva knew that she wasn't quite putting her best foot forward on behalf of the school, she couldn't help the overwhelming exhaustion she felt nor the solemn aura of sadness that seemed to hang around her shoulders like a shroud.

Maria Podmore had been spirited away to Spain to stay with a cousin, and while _The Prophet_ was incensed by her disappearance and ramping up the conspiracy theories, Minerva was confident that the witch would be safe until further notice. Arthur Weasley, Gawain Robards, and Filius were the only people who knew the full truth of Minerva's role in the matter, and while the Aurors had questioned her about having met Maria for lunch on Saturday, the official investigation appeared to have reached an impasse.

Maria had barely cried upon learning the news of her husband's death and that in itself had been heartbreaking. It was though the woman had already expected it. It was a reaction Minerva had seen before during the previous wars, usually whenever family members of an Auror had to be notified. The few comments the witch had made were to swear Minerva to discovering the truth about her husband's death… and to promise to notify her of any small ways that she could assist the Order if necessary. Even in grief, the witch still possessed integrity and courage that would have made Godric himself proud.

Minerva had safely delivered Maria to Zaragoza and then returned to the castle, returning to her duties as Headmistress with little fanfare, which almost made the process worse. Albus had remained quiet in his portrait and she had taken little solace from his presence as she had sifted through the endless piles of reports, correspondence, and papers pertinent to Hogwarts business. Though she had worked steadily all afternoon, there was nothing to remove the deep sense of loss and _guilt_ that had settled deep within her bones.

Minerva sighed and sipped her pumpkin juice absently, gazing across the Hall quietly as her eyes checked the smattering of black-robed figures like clockwork. All appeared well and a number of students were nursing steaming mugs of cider as they conversed quietly.

A moment later, a group of young Gryffindors entered, giggling amongst themselves as they shook snow from their outer robes.

Minerva's breath caught.

Briefly, her mind superimposed the image of Harry Potter and his friends entering the Hall in a similar manner, their cheeks bright… snow glittering in Hermione's riotous curls as she laughed at something that one of her friends had said...

Minerva shook her head.

Strange, how clear the memory was...

 _So many young lives shattered by events beyond their control… and what will this generation remember?_

"Ah, to be young and carefree…"

Turning slightly, Minerva found Filius following her gaze with a nostalgic smile, rubbing the edge of his goblet softly. Her lips briefly parted before she realized she had nothing to say in return. All of her thoughts were too macabre to share.

"I hope you won't mind if a few of us drop by your office this evening, Minerva," Filius said quietly, rising from his place with a subtle flourish of blue robes. "Pomona and Hestia may have uncovered a new article that may be of interest to you."

Minerva blinked for a moment before lifting an eyebrow. The deceptively calm tone indicated that her Deputy was speaking of matters outside of Hogwarts… and the strange request seemed to indicate that their colleagues had made progress in their research for the Order.

 _Finally some good news…_

"Of course," she replied evenly, dabbing her lips with a napkin. "Whenever suits your convenience."

The wizard departed quietly, drifting past the Ravenclaw table to murmur something to a group of fourth-years studying with large piles of books.

Minerva flicked her plate away and sighed.

Her eyes found the group of Gryffindors again and saw that they were still joking amongst each other cheerfully.

At least for now, there was still peace.

* * *

Dia looked up as soon as she felt the wards shift.

Removing her reading glasses, she had just moved to stand when Eleni appeared on the other side of the room with a small _pop!_

"Diamantina."

"Eleni," Dia replied, absorbing the Elf's disheveled appearance and reddish skin.

Her brow furrowed in concern.

"Let me summon a Replenishing Brew and some Burn Paste," she said quickly.

"I have no need of such things at the moment," Eleni replied tiredly, waving a small hand even as she strode forward and ascended the few adobe steps to stand across from Dia's desk. It seemed her friend wished to dispense with the debrief as quickly as possible.

"Did you find him?" Dia asked calmly, attempting to rein in the sudden spike in her anxiety. It wouldn't do to distract Hermione at the late hour. Eleni tilted her head.

"I did not," she replied softly, her large eyes apologetic. Dia's own eyes fluttered shut and she sighed softly, quelling the wave of disappointment.

"I did however encounter Avram and a few of the Riders," Eleni continued, her ears flattening slightly as her small hands came together and twisted. Dia looked up in surprise.

"And?" she whispered hopefully.

"I've relayed your message. When the Riders return home, he will ask Jethro to contact you," Eleni said. "Avram indicated that your suspicions are in concert with their own. There has been a good amount of unrest in the desert."

Dia frowned as she considered that bit of information. She had hoped that sending both the Elves would maximize the chances of finding her former Master, but it seemed that the Abrahams were still on the move and likely Disillusioned, Charmed, Transfigured, and enchanted to within an inch of their tents.

 _Amazing she even found Avram, considering how large the Sahara is…_

"What do you mean by that?"

Eleni grimaced and rubbed a small wrist softly. Dia abruptly felt guilty for the sharp tone of voice. Her friend looked exhausted and her usual ivory tunic was practically grey with dirt, her small sandals falling apart at the seams. It seemed the Elf hadn't found time to tend to herself during the arduous search.

"Avram would not say," Eleni replied slowly. "He only hinted that the Riders had been drawn from their usual duties to the desert by… disturbances of some kind. Stelios and I both experienced ripples of it. There is Dark magic amassing out there, Dia."

Dia frowned.

The desert would always be full of Dark magic, but if the Abrahams were concerned _... that is troubling, indeed._

"Where is Stelios?" she asked slowly.

"We agreed to split apart nearly four days ago. I have not seen him since that time, though I've felt that he is preparing to return soon. I imagine he will report in sometime tomorrow."

Dia nodded, feeling a bit reassured that her other friend would not be out wandering the desert much longer. Elves within the same clan possessed a low-level bond similar to one Dia currently shared with Hermione, albeit less directed from what she had understood over the years. If Eleni was unconcerned with her uncle's whereabouts then Dia knew that she had no cause to worry.

"Very well," Dia said after a long moment. "I thank you for your efforts, Eleni. You've brought me a great deal of comfort, even if you didn't manage to find Jethro. Please… let me attend to your sunburn and probable case of dehydration."

Eleni shook her head and passed a delicate hand over her downy hair which seemed rather disheveled.

"No, darling," she replied. "I shall adjourn home for the time being. I daresay you might not see me tomorrow morning, but I shall endeavor to be here in time for dinner. I look forward to hearing what has transpired since I left. Doubtless you and Hermione have gotten up to a plethora of shenanigans."

Dia nodded absently, deciding not to reveal just _how_ many shenanigans they had gotten up to since the Elves had departed.

"Good night, darling," Eleni said, giving her a tired salute. Dia shook her head softly and smiled in return.

"Good night."

A moment later Eleni disappeared and the room fell silent… swimming, once again, with more questions than answers.

* * *

 **Tuesday Nov. 23, 1999**

Pomona left the staff meeting feeling rather troubled.

The end of the term was coming up quickly and while the budgetary discussion had gone rather well considering the financial burden that Hogwarts had incurred after the War, her mind was shuttling through other things. Everyone had left in a rather sour mood, and despite ending on a good note with plans for the holiday season, there had been little of the customary chatter when the meeting had finally adjourned.

The meeting had been _tense_. There was no other word to describe it.

It was a feeling that Pomona recalled well from previous years - specifically the ones during which it was well known that Dumbledore was splitting his duties as Headmaster with those pertaining to the Order of the Phoenix, only this time… _Pomona_ had felt rather guilty. Rather than sitting on the side of ignorance as she had done for decades, this time, she had slipped across the other side of the warding, as it were.

She had imagined that the grass would be greener, but she quickly discovered that it was not a nice feeling… and despite the irritation and oftentimes downright anger she had felt from years prior when she had known that her colleagues were sitting upon the dark secrets of war, Pomona imagined that it was almost worse to be in the know.

There had been an uneasy sort of guilt in her gut as the others - Rolanda, Sybil, Horace - had asked a number of questions regarding the extra safety precautions that Minerva and Filius had outlined together… a discussion that had come to an impasse when the two had effectively shut down communication on the matter citing it as a need-to-know decision.

Poppy had whispered a number of asides to her and Pomona had tried to remain silent as best she could. Part of her was still reeling with the implications of the decision that she and Filius faced at the end of the following week, though after her discussion with Hestia, Pomona couldn't imagine turning down the call to action.

Minerva's invitation to include Pomona and Filius in the Order summons had come as a complete shock in itself.

While it had been no surprise that her old friend had taken up the mantle that Albus had left behind, Pomona had been both honored and concerned that the witch sought to include them in the third incarnation of the secret organization. It wasn't as though they hadn't helped in previous years… most everyone on faculty had managed to contribute to the Order's efforts in their own way at some point, but the gesture had spoken volumes about Minerva's own mindset and the very real predicament the witch faced as a new threat began to simmer on the horizon.

The number of seasoned wands had been considerably diminished in the last War and that was made obvious at the initial meeting. Rationally, Pomona knew that while she and Filius were both experienced (her husband more so given his reputation as a noted duelist), they had long since given up old methods and habits of youth in order to raise a family and to devote their lives to teaching. That left Minerva, Arthur, and Gawain as the Order members with the most experience in war… likely followed by Hestia, Wickleffe, Renata, Diamantina, and perhaps herself and Filius.

 _Not exactly a regiment by any means…_

The younger folk - Neville, Luna, and of course Harry Potter and his friends, would undoubtedly provide the bold sort of wandwork that would be needed on more dangerous missions, but Pomona imagined that they had little experience with the subtleties of reconnaissance work and politics… leaving a large margin of error when it came to keeping the Order's activities private.

Pomona sighed heavily and forced a smile as a group of young Hufflepuffs passed her going the opposite direction.

She couldn't imagine stepping away from her duties to her students, but at the same time… she couldn't imagine _not_ , already knowing that they would be facing a multifaceted threat whose final goals still remained deeply veiled. Her duties to the children now extended beyond the castle walls and despite her trepidation at revisiting her old Auror ways of days past, Pomona already knew that her die was essentially cast.

The staircase she was on shifted and Pomona nodded politely as her husband emerged from a passage in a familiar flourish of blue. _He must have cut across the fourth floor..._

"Pomona," Filius said evenly, falling into step with her as they made their way down another flight of steps.

"Are your fledglings prepared to have their wings snipped by badger claws this weekend?" Pomona asked conversationally, willing herself to focus on more mundane issues until they arrived to the privacy of their chambers.

"I don't know about that. My ravens indicate that there has been trouble in the badger den as we've heard that _both_ Henderson and Trawlip have been ill met by bludgers this past week," her husband replied smoothly, clearly content to follow her lead when it came to mindless small-talk. Neither of them enjoyed Quidditch with the same regard as Minerva, Hestia, or Talfryn.

"Besides, with Eliezer as our new Seeker, I hardly believe there is any cause for concern at the moment."

"Famous last words," she quipped tiredly, attempting to keep her pleasant expression in place as they arrived to the second floor.

Filius raised an eyebrow in amusement as they rounded a corner and narrowly avoided two figures bolting out from behind a tapestry. Pomona's ire was finally moved.

"Rowntree! Tatting! Five points from Gryffindor," Pomona admonished, shaking her head as the two girls skidded to a stop and turned in sync wearing matching expressions of guilt. She forced herself to let out a tense exhale.

"The Library will be open today _and_ tomorrow," she said in a gentler voice, lifting a disapproving eyebrow. _It seems the second-years have it in for Minerva this term…_

"Should you require assistance on your papers for Professor Jones, I suggest you make an appointment to speak with her," Filius added, fixing both girls with a knowing look. The girls shared a nervous glance and nodded.

"Sorry, professors!"

The infraction dealt with, Pomona turned and allowed herself to walk a hair closer to her husband as they ducked behind another tapestry and finally arrived to their private corridor. The well-worn carpet and familiar breath of smells felt like a Healing salve and she unpinned her hat with a sigh as Filius waved the door open.

"Thank the Founders," she murmured, stoking the hearth with a sure flick before divesting herself of her heavy outer robes and banishing her hat to its familiar hook. Filius muttered a similar assent and quickly disappeared in the direction of the bedroom, likely intending to change into something more comfortable as well.

It was a gift that neither of them had rounds that evening.

Pomona took a moment in their shared study to organize the stack of parchments she had shrunk for marking tomorrow. Neville would see to the first two periods with underclassmen giving her the opportunity to sleep in a bit and attend to her grading after breakfast.

Filius re-appeared as she stepped back into the living area, his feet encased in the ridiculous bunny slippers their granddaughter had gifted him last Samhain. He insisted they were soothing.

"I take it the meeting elicited a number of troubling thoughts and feelings?"

Pomona took a deep breath and cocked her head, moving to settle in her favorite armchair as Filius waved over two cups of tea for the both of them, settling in on the chesterfield with his favorite throw. _He must have called Josie…_

She took a fortifying sip of mint before wrinkling her nose and flicking her wand as Filius did the same. They exchanged cups deftly. Her husband was forever mixing their teas, his mind usually preoccupied with other matters.

Pomona allowed pumpkin spice to wash over her tongue before answering, gazing sadly at her husband who was watching her with a sympathetic expression.

"I wish we did not have to resort to such artifice," she said eventually, giving voice to the quiet pool of guilt that had grown the longer the faculty meeting had continued.

"Do you regret attending the Order meeting?" Filius asked in response, tilting his head slightly.

"Not at all. But I do regret the wedge it will create between our colleagues should matters grow worse," she replied. Filius nodded, his white brows drawing together in thought.

"I suppose Minerva will likely work to keep the both of us from participating in the Order to a concentrated extent. Perhaps with the others as well… I imagine she will take a more conservative approach involving any ties to Hogwarts than Albus would have done."

Pomona frowned, as she waved her cup away.

"Has she revealed to you how Dumbledore negotiated participation for the other professors during the last War? I can't imagine Minerva McGonagall sitting on the sidelines if she knew that Severus was being sent out into the field," she remarked.

"We have never spoke of her participation in the Order, however I gather it is still a sore point for her," Filius said softly, admitting something that Pomona had suspected but never pressed.

While the both of them possessed a strong friendship with Minerva, it was an unspoken agreement that they were separate relationships and that their respective interactions with the witch were private - at least when it came to matters of confidence.

Being a friend to Minerva McGonagall was no small thing and Pomona knew that many a witch and wizard had found fault with the woman's mysterious methods and private nature. She engendered a very specific kind of respect - one that felt very black and white at times, though Pomona knew it wasn't intentional.

During the last War, Pomona had watched her husband struggle within the limitations that Minerva set… stepping in on three or four notable occasions to cover her duties at Hogwarts after Order business had created conflict. Even for a Gryffindor, she knew that the woman's sense of loyalty was over-developed, almost to the point of detriment, and Pomona knew how hard it had been for Filius to watch his friend suffer without knowing why and without being given license to help.

The witch had simply refused any opportunity to make her life easier, believing it imperative to keep her two loyalties separate.

"It seems we are speaking of matters as though they are already set," Pomona commented after a moment, letting her gaze drift into the relaxing play of flames in the hearth.

"Are they not?"

"Have you considered, Filius, that there are few senior members of the Order left?" she asked softly. She heard her husband shift.

"I have," came the succinct reply a moment later. "And while I have no doubt that the younger members will quickly rise to fill in the ranks, I believe it my duty to stand at Minerva's side until which time others can step forward to replace me."

Pomona sighed, nodding to herself even as her eyes flicked up to consider the faces of their family, smiling back at her. _They_ were her duty... and Filius was right - if the Order was going to gain its footing in the coming weeks and months, the both of them would have to do their part to build its presence, regardless of her fears and misgivings.

Taking a long moment to stir her tea again, Pomona sipped it quietly and smiled, allowing herself a moment to be soothed by the simple and familiar action. The memory of her children laughing echoed and she felt her conviction coalesce into a decision.

Pomona turned to find Filius stifling a yawn and her heart softened, at once proud of the caring man she had married… his tireless dedication to his students… the calm, gentle way in which he listened to her and somehow managed to affirm their partnership even as he continually upheld his moral compass.

"Then it seems we have some planning to do, my dear," she murmured, smiling even as bright blue eyes flickered her way in curiosity. "And some scheming as well, since you and I both know it will take a good amount of convincing to allow Minerva to let us do our part in the Order's plans."

Filius gave her a long searching look before smiling, the wrinkles around his eyes creasing in the familiar way that she loved.

"It's been a long while since we've schemed together, my love," he replied softly. "It would be an honor."

Pomona chuckled at her husband's overly gallant tone of voice and shook her head as she sipped her tea thoughtfully.

"Minerva won't know what hit her."

Her husband's answering laugh warmed her from within.

* * *

Hermione groaned as she lowered herself into her bed slowly, pulling the covers over her aching legs and reclining back against the pillows. Despite the Strengthening Potion she had taken, her body was protesting the last three days vehemently.

She was briefly grateful that Eleni and Stelios had returned. The younger Elf refused to answer any questions about their mysterious trip, though to be honest, Hermione hadn't had the time nor energy to devote to that particular mystery. The Elves had resumed their usual schedule and she had been exceedingly grateful when the kitchen had suddenly been restocked with a plethora of pre-portioned meals high in protein.

Hermione was quickly learning why Master Kallas had been anxious to move her schedule forward. Her new lessons were already evidence that there were plenty of avenues in the magical world still left to be traveled. While yesterday, Konstantinos had worked her for hours on recovery rolls and circuits meant to build upper body strength, today Ana had pushed her mental abilities by working on formal dueling in a manner that had repeatedly destroyed the gym in Athens, much to the other witches and wizard's delight.

Whereas Konstantinos worked on blending physical agility with magical ability, Ana strove to challenge Hermione's ability to duel creatively. Unlike the days previous there had been a number of other people training at the gym when they had arrived, and while Hermione had briefly been interested to meet more people in the Greek Wizarding world, the majority had cleared out when they had discovered that Ana would be training her.

It hadn't taken Hermione long to understand why. Even though the formal style of dueling required far less physical effort and movement, Ana had quickly revealed her formidable arsenal of methods. She had begun by teaching Hermione how to observe an opponent and to test for their habits. From there began the extremely difficult task of learning to layer one's spells in succession so as to trap one's opponent or utilize their spells against them.

Their first duel had resulted in Hermione's spell backfiring as she meant to transfigure a barrier that Ana had conjured around herself. The witch had layered in a charm that resulted in Hermione getting blasted backward and suddenly finding herself bound by the explosion's remnants which had reshaped themselves into fiery ropes. The second and third rounds had largely ended in a similar way before Ana had forced Hermione to consider their surrounding environment and the way it could be manipulated in a duel.

From there they had succeeded to destroy the gym several times over to several rounds of applause, though Hermione knew that she hadn't even come close to disarming the other witch. It had been both frustrating and entirely eye-opening.

She had only seen her master for a brief moment in the kitchen at lunch. Master Kallas had been firmly ensconced in her study for most of the day and Hermione knew that she had been busy planning her trip to Guatemala.

The bed jolted suddenly and Hermione sat up in the darkness, her wand already in her hand and lit before she realized what was happening.

"Schlif!" she hissed, scowling as two yellow eyes blinked back at her, clearly affronted by the brightness of her _Lumos_.

Extinguishing it elicited a loud purr and Hermione fell back against the pillows, sniffing slightly as she felt heavy paws trod along one side of her bed. The large cat settled off her left shoulder, kneading peacefully as his purr continued to motor in her ear.

"Charming," she muttered, pulling her hair out of the reach of his grasp. There was a small sound and the sharp pricking of claws as Schlif batted at it.

Grunting in annoyance, Hermione turned away from him and closed her eyes.

 _You better get some sleep…_

Tomorrow would bring a meeting with Yiayia in the Pharmakeion followed by several hours of revisions before she met with Konstantinos again. Plus, Master Kallas had indicated that Stelios still needed to meet with her before the end of the week.

Yawning, Hermione smiled slightly as she felt a reassuring warmth press into her back.

With Schlif providing a quiet backdrop of monotonous purrs, she quickly drifted off into sleep.


	43. Chapter 42

**Wednesday, Nov. 24, 1999**

Hermione coughed, gasping slightly as she rolled to one side. _That one is going to leave a bruise._

A moment later she felt the air rush back into her lungs as she looked up to see Konstantinos regarding her with an apologetic expression, his hand falling away in a familiar gesture as his full lips twisted into a small frown.

She scrambled to her feet and huffed impatiently.

"Again."

"Are you sure? We could take a -"

"No, again," she said firmly.

Behind them, two of Konstantinos' friends, Angelos and Nick exchanged a troubled look before Hermione glared at them. They lifted their eyebrows slightly before jogging away and she sighed, wiping her brow with the back of a hand before stepping back and shaking out her arms.

Likely the wizards were upset because it was the seventh time in the last two minutes that she had gone down. The last time had been particularly hard, but Hermione _knew_ she was a hair away from succeeding.

Konstantinos' light eyes looked at her searchingly for a long moment before he nodded and stepped back.

"Five more times and then we're moving on to something else," he said clearly and Hermione nodded.

She could _do_ this.

They were currently engaging in a variation on target practice and while Hermione had to admit it was a skill she desired, the amount of frustration building up inside her was threatening to derail the entire process.

At the moment she wasn't allowed a wand.

Not until she successfully evaded twenty spells in succession.

The highest she had made it to was thirteen and that had been pushing it.

Konstantinos stood a few meters away, wand in hand for her benefit though he assured her that they would eventually work up to a place where neither of them would need a wand. (Hermione remained pleasantly dubious, though she made a mental note to add wandless magic to her list of goals and things to research and practice.)

The wizard stood opposite of her and fired non-verbal spells at her relentlessly. It was her task to watch his body and use the subtle tells of his physicality to correctly evade whatever spell he sent her way.

There were five options.

Six, if you included Konstantinos' skullduggery.

Already, Hermione could predict when Konstantinos was about to disarm her. Years alongside Harry Potter had trained her to see the small shifting of weight and subtle lifting of the elbow that preceded an _Expelliarmus_. Most Charms involved a shift of weight forward which made them relatively easy to avoid.

She had been surprised at being able to spot a Transfiguration within milliseconds and Konstantinos had essentially stopped casting them after Hermione had evaded them every single time without fail. Angelos had given her a whoop of encouragement when she managed to avoid seven in a row and that had been in the stream of thirteen successes before a hex pulled her up short and gave her a bloody nose.

Jinxes were usually preceded by a larger arm movement that crossed a person's midline which made them fairly easy to evade.

Full hexes and curses were blocked by the gyms' wards but they still had the capacity to knock a person backwards, and while hexes seemed to be accompanied by a rippling action of the torso, it was hard to predict the final angle of attack and Hermione had been knocked flat after guessing wrong on more than one occasion.

Curses were proving to be her biggest challenge. Each curse seemed remarkably different though Konstantinos insisted that there was a unifying clue to all of them that she wasn't yet seeing. Hermione was forced to admit that she simply hadn't _had_ any concentrated experiences with curses and her temper had risen a few notches at being given several physical lessons testifying to that fact.

The final choice, of course, was simply a full on feint and Konstantinos was remarkably adept at catching her off guard with his fake-outs which were driving her mad. At one point Nick had trotted over to whisper a word of advice in her ear - that Konstantinos frequently favored a feint before a hex and that had helped slightly, though the wizard had soon mixed up his habits and had once again rendered that helpful hint inert.

"I'm ready," Hermione said firmly, bending her knees as she watched the wizard closely.

Konstantinos grew still and she waited, feeling the adrenaline begin to pump through her system as her eyes watched his lithe body... searching for any telltale shifting or gesture that could - _there!_

Three flashes passed her quickly and Hermione twisted and bent in response. Her feet remained in place.

A shift betrayed a Charm and she leapt to one side, twisting again as a Transfiguration sliced past her elbow. _That's five._

Konstantinos shifted to the left and there was a complicated series of flicks across his sternum before she ducked, hearing the curse whizz past.

 _Where did his wand_ _ **finish?**_

The stray thought almost cost her a dodge, but Hermione evaded the following jinx with a stupid sort of twirl.

 _Seven._

Her brow furrowed as the wizard stepped back, wand slicing deftly before coming _inward..._

A moment later she was twisting in the air before her body came down on the mat, left cheek ricocheting off the nubby foam with enough force to make her see stars for a moment. _Fuck._

Hermione slammed a hand against the mat and blew a bit of spit out of her mouth impatiently.

"I saw it! I saw it!" she crowed, shaking her head slightly even as Nick hurried over to grasp her arm. Dark brown eyes gazed down at her in concern but Hermione couldn't be bothered as she pushed past the large man to gesture to Konstantinos.

"I saw it! Curses need to come through the _midline_ of the body. They have a longer pathway just like hexes, but you have to draw them _in_ before directing it at your opponent! That's the key!"

Konstantinos smiled and lifted his eyebrows toward Angelos who muttered something softly in Greek. The beefy man chuckled as he walked over, tilting his chin upward toward her in acknowledgement.

"Little sister is quick!" he said appreciatively. Nick came around her again and frowned, his wand appearing and twirling briefly even as Hermione jerked back, feeling her lip tingle.

"Like a little tiger," he said, turning toward Konstantinos. "She doesn't even notice when she is hurt!"

"I can't say that's a _great_ quality," Konstantinos replied lightly, sending her a lopsided smile. "It _is_ important to know when to rest or quit."

"I know when to quit -" Hermione huffed, even as Nick chortled.

" _Tell that to your face!"_

Even though Angelos said it in Greek, Hermione was pleased when she understood. She frowned as the large wizard held out a delicate looking mirror that he conjured, the silver filigree at odds with his hulking hand.

"Oh shit," Hermione whispered, pressing a hand to one cheek as she absorbed her puffy lip, bruised temple, and cut over one eye. There was a bit of blood smeared along her chin. The wizards laughed loudly and Nick threw a hand over her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake.

Incredulous, she looked to Konstantinos who wrinkled his nose and gestured toward the bench near the door.

"Perhaps we should take a short break, little sister," he suggested.

"No, wait! I just got it though! You _said_ five times… that was only once!" Hermione insisted, already moving to step back into position. Konstantinos rolled his eyes as his friends clapped toward her and shouted encouragement.

"Tiger!"

"Kamikaze!"

Angelos whooped appreciatively and moved back, calling something at Nick that sounded a lot like a wager. Hermione ignored them.

"I'm taking it down to _twice_ more or my aunt will have my head," Konstantinos said loudly, giving her firm look as he waved the other wizards back. Hermione fluttered a hand in acknowledgement, setting her jaw as she bent her knees.

"I can do this."

* * *

"Here, an owl just dropped this off."

Harry looked up at the unexpected interruption to find Ginny standing to his side, looking slightly muddied as she held out an envelope sealed with an unfamiliar blue crest. Blinking slightly, he accepted it, smiling as his girlfriend bent down to press a kiss against one cheek before disappearing in a flourish of dark green robes.

Her good mood seemed to indicate that Quidditch practice had gone well.

Across the library, Ron was oblivious to the exchange… muttering under his breath as he waved a chopstick in one hand beneath his desk. They had learned the hard way that some defensive spells needed to be practiced _without_ wands first… otherwise certain explosive results could ensue if one wasn't fully focused.

The librarians at the Academy still hadn't forgiven them.

Harry frowned as he looked at the seal again. The royal blue wax seemed expensive. It had a satiny sheen that he had only ever seen on letters from Kingsley's office and one memorable letter from Narcissa Black. Peering at the raised image he absorbed an elegant cursive K with a smaller winged triangle in the middle.

Wracking his mind, Harry couldn't think of anyone whose last name began with K.

Opening it quickly he was surprised to find a short note.

 _Hog's Head. Ask for akvavit._

Harry flipped it over and frowned, about to open his mouth to pass it to Ron when suddenly the handwriting connected.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed.

That caused Ron to look up and Harry flicked the parchment over with his wand, watching the realization spread over his friend's face slowly as he too flipped the short missive over to check if anything was written on the other side. It seemed that Hermione was content to keep their correspondence to a minimum. _Probably wise, just in case..._

"Sounds like a two-part journey," Ron murmured thoughtfully. Harry nodded in agreement, the two of them exchanging a long look as they each wondered what their friend had in store for their upcoming meeting.

Eventually Ron sighed and turned back to his book though Harry noted how the chopstick seemed to be wielded with a bit of added vigor. His own thoughts were a bit more muddled and briefly he wished that the witch were simply _there_ so they could talk through things together like old times.

It was only Wednesday and there were two practical tests lying between them and their meeting with Hermione. Usually practical exams were events that Harry enjoyed, but he simply sat back quietly and returned to his hex tables without much enthusiasm. As far as he was concerned, Sunday couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

 **Thursday Nov. 25, 1999**

Dia looked up from her correspondence suspiciously to find her apprentice staring into space, her eyes narrowed in thought as a forkful of grapefruit made small circles in the air… the fruit clearly forgotten as Hermione worked through something in her mind.

She set her parchment aside, waiting for the witch to notice her observation as the utensil continued to circle absently… but she didn't. Dia watched full lips mouth a series of words, quickly discerning that they weren't English or Greek.

 _What is she doing?_

"Darling?"

The grapefruit disappeared instantly and Hermione looked at her innocently, chewing quietly as she gazed across the table. Dia's eyes narrowed.

"Are you quite all right?" she asked after a moment.

"Yes, of course," Hermione replied softly, her shoulders sinking slightly as she looked across the table in feigned concern. Something told her the emotion didn't quite match with what Dia felt through their bond. "Why?"

"You seem distracted this morning."

"I suppose I am," Hermione replied, spearing another mouthful of fruit. "I'm in the process of memorizing."

"But not ingredients or properties," Dia said searchingly. Hermione flushed lightly and she swallowed. She detected a flush of embarrassment that was abruptly redirected. _What are you up to?_

"No. Not those," the witch replied evasively.

Dia tilted her head, but Hermione turned back to her bowl, clearly unwilling to elaborate on the matter.

"I shall be venturing into the Pharmakeion later this afternoon if you wish for a reprieve from your… studies," Dia said softly after a moment, pulling forth several archaeological journals she had requested from the States. Upon hearing no reply she looked up to find Hermione watching her with an apologetic expression.

"I wish I could, but I really need to fact-check my Transfiguration figures," she replied softly. Dia nodded.

"A prudent use of your time," she agreed.

A dark part of her swallowed disappointment that they would not be able to enjoy a shared respite before she was scheduled to depart on Sunday morning... before shoving it to one side as she straightened her shoulders.

 _There is no cause for disappointment, Diamantina. However you still must arrange try to arrange something next week before the Quorum..._

"I also told Ana that I would stop by the Apothecary this evening… we are going to work together after dinner," Hermione said quietly, another bite of grapefruit disappearing between soft lips.

"She invited you to Thessaloniki?" Dia asked in surprise. That was rather out of character for her niece. The witch valued her privacy to an almost absurd degree.

Hermione nodded slowly, a searching expression on her face as she watched Dia's reaction.

"Very well. I will tell Eleni not to wait on dinner for you, then?" she replied after a moment.

Her apprentice nodded and Dia felt another mismatched sensation ripple through their bond before the witch turned back to her breakfast, a serene expression on her face. The fork went back to circling and Dia carefully turned back to her parchments, deliberately erasing the frown from between her brows.

She couldn't decide what was more disconcerting. The fact that her apprentice was clearly keeping something from her or seeing her own carefully guarded expressions reflected on the beautiful features that so often reacted with unthinking honesty.

 _She came here to learn and learn she has…_

Hermione was being affected by her, that much was certain. However as Dia's eyes flicked across the table, she couldn't help the twinge of guilt as she wondered how much of the woman's carefree nature would eventually become tempered by her own practiced ways.

Dia wasn't sure how she felt about the outcome.

* * *

Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose before carefully removing her spectacles with a tired hand. Her head was pounding and her stomach felt rather empty. As her eyes flicked to the clock in the corner she confirmed the fact that she had indeed missed dinner for the second night in a row and Minerva sighed, rubbing a heavy hand across her sternum absently.

The fire crackled in the hearth and as she gazed to her right, she saw that large, fat snowflakes were still drifting past the window in lazy spirals, sparkling as they caught the candlelight from within the cozy confines of her office.

A clearing of a voice overhead broke through her thoughts and Minerva looked up to find Phineas Nigellus' portrait peering down at her expectantly.

"Headmistress, it seems the Minister has decided to order internal audits of Investigation, Floo Network, Internal Security, and Intoxicating Substances," the wizard announced, drawing a couple of murmurs and sardonic comments. A glance to his left saw that both Albus and Severus were still away.

Minerva's eyes narrowed and she nodded her understanding slowly. Turning back to her parchments, she lifted her spectacles into place with practiced ease.

"Thank you, Phineas. I trust you will keep your observation to yourself?" she asked quietly, flicking her eyes back to the portrait.

Dark eyes regarded her haughtily for a moment before the wizard sniffed and ruffled his robes.

"I do not _serve_ the Minister, Headmistress. His doings are of little consequence to me," Phineas sneered. "What the wretched man doesn't know can't hurt him."

"I thank you for your discretion," Minerva replied evenly, deciding to disregard the additional grumblings and commentary suggesting that Gryffindors were slowly taking over the Wizarding world.

Kingsley's initial reaction to Sturgis' death had been remarkably subdued and that had continued to resonate with her. The Minister had appeared to accept the mismatched findings of the subsequent investigation with little concern and therefore she had to suspect there was again _more_ to the circumstances of Sturgis' death than she currently understood.

These internal audits also seemed out of character. The majority of her contacts at the Ministry were still grumbling over the mountain of paperwork and documentation that had been required to carry out the Minister's thorough inquiry and review of all the government's departments and systems.

 _Why order an audit when there should be nothing to find…_

Unless there was something that Kingsley was hoping to reveal through official channels…

Minerva sighed and turned back to her paperwork, unsure of what to make of the strange dealings at the Ministry.

For the moment it was out of her hands, and in the meantime there were far Darker matters on her mind.

* * *

"Ana?"

Hermione's voice was rather timid, but she had been avoiding the question since after dinner and Ana seemed to have relaxed slightly once she realized that Hermione absorbed her words and lessons quickly. The witch was currently flicking through a large book impatiently, a small crease between her elegantly shaped brows.

"Yes?"

Hermione shifted slightly, trying to bolster her courage. Her palms were sweating.

"I must ask a favor of you…" she said softly, briefly admiring the burnished curls gleaming in the soft candlelight. _Ohhh, please don't hex me. Please don't hex me._

"Oh?"

Ana was clearly still preoccupied with Hermione's first question which had been related to their current lesson - the archaic rules of etiquette related to Societal rituals. While Ana had revealed herself to be a Mistress of Potions, she was essentially an honorary member of the Transfiguration Society by extension through Master Kallas… and she had revealed, rather smugly, that she could likely test through the second classifications with little trouble if she so desired.

Despite her prickly nature, Hermione found that she rather liked the woman and that Ana provided a good amount of practice for her upcoming introduction to Society life in general just by virtue of her elegant ways and scathing wit. She had learned enough from Yiayia to understand that the witch was essentially a cyclone of conflicting forces… and if she could have pinned her for Hogwarts house, she would have split her right down the middle between Slytherin and Gryffindor.

 _Just ask her…_

"I was wondering… if you knew anything about Occlumency… or... er, Legilimency, for that matter," Hermione said softly.

Ana pursed her lips carefully as she continued browsing for another long moment, a small noncommittal hum reaching Hermione's ears. A moment later, the large book snapped shut loudly, clear hazel eyes finding Hermione's own with abrupt precision. One eyebrow lifted smoothly before the witch strode back over to the dark leather couch where Hermione was sitting.

"I do believe my aunt will be summoned to a gathering of the Senior Mastery after the start of the Quorum," Ana said clearly. "It would be most logical considering the ICW's interference. As such, there will be opportunity for you to engage with other active apprentices privately. I highly suggest that you take the time to observe carefully before conversing with them. While it can be satisfying and enjoyable to speak with others in your situation, your words and behavior will be subject to perusal once your peers return to their masters."

Ana paused and glanced toward the bookshelf along the far wall.

"At such time of course, you would do to remember everything we have just discussed."

Hermione nodded, frowning as her thoughts turned to the mysterious meeting that would happen at the end of the following week. There were so many _rules_ and things to remember.

While Hermione didn't necessarily enjoy this portion of her studies, she had been impressed at how Ana had managed to wrap interesting bits of history into the tedium of mind-numbing rituals and old rules of etiquette. The witch was also extraordinarily devious and had already demonstrated several ways in which Hermione could usurp those traditions if she so wished… a practice with which Hermione suspected the woman already possessed a good amount of practice.

According to Ana, it was the Kefalas tradition to undermine the power and authority of established patriarchal systems (which most Societies continued to embrace); she had indicated several subtle methods of protest that Hermione could employ if she so wished, assuring her that Master Kallas would approve… and a few more of which the elder witch might _not_ approve.

Some of the material brought Hermione a tinge of anxiety, but for the most part Ana had reshaped the Quorum into an opportunity that she could use to her advantage. It would be an environment in which she had a number of professional goals - networking, of course… and establishing her reputation beneath Master Kallas. And while there was the underlying unease of the ISOS violations hanging in the background, Hermione knew that the odds of some sort of disturbance or attack on Atlantis were extremely low.

Therefore, the only tools Hermione would have at her disposal would be her ability to observe the other members of the Society, to discern any potential information that could help the larger cause of the Order, and to wield her words and wit in a manner that would attract the right people.

Which brought her back to the information that she still required.

"Ana… did you, um… hear my second question?" Hermione asked quietly.

The witch glared.

"If you are to ask a question, Hermione, I expect you to ask it confidently," Ana snapped, rearranging her legs with a flourish of dark blue silk. Hermione felt a twinge in her chest before abruptly smoothing her features. She took a deep breath.

"Ana… I would be ever so appreciative if you could enlighten me with any knowledge you may have of either Occlumency or Legilimency," Hermione said clearly, fixing the witch with what she hoped registered as an austere expression.

Ana smirked.

"Better," she replied approvingly, reaching one pale hand for her glass of Agiorgitiko. Hazel eyes flicked over her with the barest hint of an apology.

"Think of me as your most vicious Pureblood adversary and know that I will always be far more obvious in my criticism until you learn to conceal your biggest insecurities and faults. What did I tell you at the beginning of our lesson today?"

Hermione blinked.

"My words are _effective_ in Society," she murmured dutifully. "They build my reputation and my opportunities with others. They are also _affective_ , earning me either sympathy or scorn depending on how well I wield my wit."

The witch sipped her wine slowly before reclining back slightly, her body angled toward Hermione as one elbow propped her against the couch. Briefly, Hermione wondered if the woman always looked and behaved like a model or if she was simply demonstrating body language for Hermione to learn and mimic. Either way the effect was intimidating and compelling.

"Ask your question again, Hermione," Ana said softly. Hazel eyes were slightly lidded and Hermione knew that she was being presented with a final opportunity to get it right. Her previous lessons with the witch had revealed that Ana was rather uncompromising when she was forced to re-illustrate her points.

"I've come to realize that you possess a rather well-rounded erudition of most Magical arts, Ana. Considering your… _wealth_ of knowledge, I wonder what you may have picked up regarding Legilimency or Occlumency," Hermione put forth, trying to infuse her words with a bit of warmth in the same manner she so often heard Master Kallas employ.

The elegant woman across from her nodded thoughtfully.

"Still a bit forward, but much better, Hermione," Ana remarked, abruptly dissolving from her movie star pose as she tucked one leg beneath her casually and fixed Hermione with an appraising look.

" _Your_ first impulse is to apologize for your queries, Hermione. A habit you must learn to break," Ana murmured softly, her hazel eyes searching.

"It became even more apparent when you asked after information that could be considered somewhat suspicious by general standards. Not everyone processes things in the same manner, mind you - some people cover their discomfort through sarcasm or anger, but the important point is to know that the _moment_ you betray your discomfort, your question will be _met_ with discomfort. And it will be _that_ much harder to learn whatever it is that you desire."

Hermione nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing even as Ana smiled kindly. The expression softened the strong chiseled features and in the candlelight, Hermione realized again just how beautiful the witch was.

"The trick to extracting information from others is to make them feel comfortable," Ana declared, smiling mischievously as she held up a finger. "No one wants to divulge secrets or shadowy knowledge to someone who seems uncertain. People spill their secrets whenever they are made to feel comfortable or important. That is key, Hermione."

"I understand," Hermione replied quickly, her brow furrowing as she considered Ana's words. They made perfect sense and even though it was such a logical concept, she was briefly annoyed that it hadn't dawned upon her earlier.

 _You've been too busy working through your_ _ **own**_ _problems._

A moment later, Ana was sipping her wine and wrinkling her nose.

"Now, I suppose I should ask why you have a sudden yen for the Arts," she said conversationally, as if they were discussing something as innocuous as the weather.

Hermione's mouth opened and closed, realizing that she felt a brief flurry of unease at Ana's phrasing. _Master Kallas said that they were only referred to as "the Arts" in Darker circles…_

"I _should_ ask, but I won't," Ana continued, her eyes flashing briefly as she waved her glass back to the low coffee table. "I shall simply assume that you either wish to obtain knowledge from others or conceal it. And that, in asking me such a question, you have already considered the controversial nature of both practices and are prepared to accept the consequences of your research."

Hazel eyes regarded her soberly and Hermione returned the searching gaze with an even one of her own. The energy between them had made a subtle shift into something much more serious.

"I shall also assume you are asking _me_ because somehow you believe your request will conflict with your relationship to my aunt, which, given the nature of your apprenticeships means that you would _only ever_ consider breaching that inherent trust in order to protect yourself or her from potential enemies."

Hermione willed her expression to remain neutral as Ana rearranged her robes carefully, hazel eyes never leaving her own even as Hermione felt a deep flash of appreciation for the witch's deductive reasoning.

 _Damn…_ _ **never**_ _keep a secret from Ana._

The witch sighed softly, her shoulders deflating a bit as she tilted her head. Hermione waited.

"What is it you truly wish to know?" Ana asked softly.

"Everything that you know," Hermione replied swiftly, already ready for the question.

Ana lifted one eyebrow before smoothing a long hand over her hair slowly as her light eyes raked across Hermione's face. Hermione lifted her chin slightly, and she saw the witch take a deep breath before letting it out in a long hiss.

"Well then… it seems we have several new lessons to schedule, my darling."


	44. Chapter 43

_A/N: Some new revelations, some new challenges..._

* * *

 **Friday, Nov. 26, 1999**

The dreamy murmur of voices felt strangely reassuring, and if it weren't for the smell of antiseptics, herbs, and assorted ointments, Minerva could have almost convinced herself that she was simply asleep.

"Minerva? I'm going to step outside in a moment and I shall allow you to dress in private. Please meet me in my office when you are ready and we shall discuss your results."

The quiet voice felt as though it were coming from a very distant place, and Minerva hummed in reply, content to remain suspended in her blissful half-conscious state for just a moment longer. Duties and paperwork flitted around the edges of her mind like stray birds, but for a sweet moment there was nothing but swirling lightness.

Echoing footsteps faded and Minerva knew she had to rise lest she fall asleep in earnest.

Pressing herself up to sitting took more energy than she expected and Minerva remained on the edge of the hospital bed for a long moment, grimacing as the aches and pains began to slide into place with familiar dull blossoms.

Too tired to attend to her robes, Minerva flicked her wand and exhaled softly as the familiar layers settled into place, adding just a bit more weight to her already aching shoulders in a manner that felt nearly as exhausting as Poppy's blasted tests. Another flick attended to her boots, and a moment later she was standing, straightening her shoulders and burying the onslaught of uncomfortable sensations as she prepared to leave the examination room.

Stepping out of the private suite, Minerva swept through the hospital wing quickly, noting two black-robed figures asleep on separate beds. Her eyes narrowed as she passed, absorbing their House colors.

 _Knotgrass and Bryant…_

The first appeared to be a Quidditch accident. The Ravenclaws had been drilling team maneuvers with every available opportunity, though seeing as this was the third injury in the past week, Minerva made a mental note to speak with Filius. It seemed Captain Kearney was either growing too bold or too careless.

The second was likely something she would read about in the daily reports, though the distinctive Skele-Gro bottle suggested another broom-related accident. Undoubtedly, she could expect an irate note from Rolanda.

Her boots clicked purposefully and Minerva rounded the corner and stepped into her colleague's office with a familiar sense of impending weariness.

Poppy was seated behind her desk, a look of simmering anger painting her features that might've been comical if not for the grave nature of their meeting. The witch waited until Minerva was seated, fairly radiating displeasure before flicking the door shut with a harsh bang. A telltale rush of magic indicated a host of privacy charms springing into place.

"Well? When were you going to notify me? Two pain potions a day is hardly a small matter of consequence, Minerva!"

The sharp tone of voice grated upon her ears and Minerva folded her robes carefully, smoothing her features into an impassive expression as she considered how to respond to her colleague's impending tirade.

"A few more weeks or months off my life shall not make much difference," she replied tiredly. "The final outcome remains inevitable."

"Considering you've resumed your work with the Order of the Phoenix, I should think you would take better care of what time you _do_ have!"

Minerva's eyes flashed but she did not refute the statement. If anything, Poppy's expression seemed to harden further.

"You are in no condition to be traipsing about Great Britain, Minerva McGonagall. It's bad enough that you're continuing to teach the upper levels… now you're adding an entire slew of demands that will only hasten matters further!"

Minerva sighed and folded her hands in her lap before regarding her friend with open features.

"How bad?"

The thunderous expression on Poppy's face dissolved slightly before being replaced with carefully affected professionalism and Minerva steeled herself in response.

"The curse is acting much faster than I anticipated… I imagine you only have a few more months of full motor control and then…" the witch trailed off, a pinched look settling into the familiar features that forced Minerva to look away. She didn't want pity.

"Perhaps the Healers at -"

"The Healers can do nothing," Minerva snapped, rising quickly to stride toward the windows. It was the same argument they'd been having for the last year and a half. _A few more months? You shall have to begin implementing new plans immediately._

"Minerva… surely you have investigated other alternatives," Poppy whispered.

A great swell of fatigue and sadness rose in her chest and for a brief moment, Minerva wanted nothing more than to simply return to her office and send off the resignation letter that remained tucked into sealed envelope in the lower left hand drawer of her desk.

She could retire quickly and quietly… disappear into the north and live out her remaining days in peace. No one would begrudge her that… _she,_ if anyone, deserved a graceful exit.

 _If it weren't for the future…_

"There are no other alternatives," Minerva intoned hollowly, feeling her features settle into a resigned expression. Her eyes gazed at the softly falling snow unseeingly.

"The curse shall spread… attacking my magical core and my nervous system until eventually, as we both know, I shall die."

"But Renata-?"

"You know as well as I that Renata can offer nothing except for quiet dignity as my life draws to a close," Minerva replied wearily. She held up a hand to forestall Poppy's protests as she turned, keeping her eyes just shy of her colleague's crestfallen expression.

"How much time before my body succumbs to the curse's effects to an unmanageable degree?"

Poppy's eyes fluttered briefly and she sighed. A furrow graced her brow and the witch plucked a clipboard from her desk and perused its dense script carefully.

"Have you experienced any trouble breathing?"

"No."

"Involuntary muscle contractions? Increased salivation or lacrimation?"

"No."

"Any trouble urinating or defecating?"

Minerva glared.

Poppy sighed and shook her head. With a weary hand she removed her gold spectacles and fixed Minerva with a searching look.

"I can only make an educated guess," she said quietly. "And I can give you a specific potion for the intercostal neuralgia, but that will only target the pain and mask it temporarily. It will also make the curse's effects more difficult to track. Your magical core will continue to drain as it works to repair the damage to your body, but it too will begin to fail you as the curse continues to spread… causing internal damage at a rate far faster than your magic can attempt its natural process of self-repair."

Minerva listened quietly, absorbing the grim news with a deep breath.

"How long?" she repeated.

"So long as you avoid straining your body or your magic… perhaps two years if matters continue to progress at this pace."

 _Two years_. That was both longer than she hoped and still unfathomably short.

"How much of that time will I remain in control of my…" she cleared her throat, "facilities?"

Poppy shifted slightly, her brow furrowing as she glanced over her parchments.

"A year. Perhaps a little longer," she replied softly. "However you _must_ begin adjusting your daily patterns and habits, Minerva. You no longer have the magical strength to sustain your body _and_ to see to your varied activities as usual."

Minerva chose to ignore the well-meaning advice. "And beyond?" she asked quietly.

"I cannot say for certain without knowing the curse that hit you," Poppy began, shifting her spectacles ineffectually as she sighed. "If you had received the full blast, you would likely have died in a matter of weeks, if not hours. Either fortunately or unfortunately, a partial refraction is much more difficult to predict."

Minerva waited, electing to remain silent even though none her friend's words revealed new information. The Healers at St. Mungo had been able to offer little beyond approximations and educated guesswork and she had consequently declined their treatment.

"We know that the curse was intended to compromise your nervous system, Minerva. The damage to your intercostal nerves, however painful, appears mostly incidental. The first stage of the curse's actual development is manifesting through your headaches and reduced vision due to constricted pupils. Without knowing more about the dynamics of the curse, I can only assume that it will begin by affecting your fine motor functions first..."

Minerva's lips pressed together as she tamped the wave of emotion that threatened to overturn her composure. Poppy continued to speak, walking through the litany of expected symptoms even as Minerva began tuning out the witch's voice. She was assured that Poppy wasn't going to reveal anything that she didn't already understand for herself. Her own research already indicated that the curse promised a long, painful demise that would slowly strip away her dignity as both her body and magic failed.

"- loss of control will progress through parasympathetic functions, eventually leading to-"

"Death… likely through respiratory failure," Minerva finished, taking a deep breath. She had reached the same conclusion months previous.

The feeling of air rushing into her lungs suddenly seemed full and precious.

How strange to imagine that it would be her diaphragm that would eventually fail her… the muscle rendered useless by the curse sitting within the walls of her body like an insidious shadow.

Even at rest Minerva could feel the quiet pulse of her magic being siphoned away - working to replenish her damaged systems from within, trapped in a futile cycle that would eventually grow too great for her body to handle. _A curse indeed._

A bitter smile briefly twisted itself at her lips and Minerva slowly returned to the chair in front of Poppy's desk, sitting stiffly as she schooled her features into an impenetrable expression.

The prognosis, since she had first received it nearly a year and a half prior, remained unchanged.

"I shall consult with Filius," Minerva said quietly. "I trust that the both of you shall notify me immediately should you feel my abilities as Headmistress are impeded by my affliction."

Poppy regarded her with a solemn expression, her grey eyes betraying her internal conflict. Even if the Order hadn't been called back into service, they would still be having this conversation. Minerva could strive to reduce the smaller gratuitous displays of magic, but the end would come either way… it was simply _inevitable._

"I am prescribing you a potion called Nervus Impediunto which should provide limited relief for the neuralgia in your chest," Poppy sighed, scribbling upon a parchment with a familiar bright green letterhead.

"Individual doses shall alleviate symptoms for up to forty-eight hours, however it will come with a host of side effects. You may experience nausea and generalized weakness alongside the pain relief, which should be manageable… however afterwards, your body will go through a period of extreme exhaustion. You are not to exceed more than four potions every two weeks… and that is already pressing acceptable limits."

"I _need_ to function, Poppy," Minerva replied in a low growl. Anything to ensure she could see to her duties without distraction. Her body was already growing immune to even the most powerful of pain potions.

"And _I_ have a duty to ensure you don't destroy your body in the meantime," Poppy snapped, signing her name with a rough flourish.

"Does it matter?"

At that, Poppy came up short and and pinned her with a stony glare before jabbing an accusing finger in her direction.

"It does if you wish to prolong your ability to function, Minerva. Nervus Impediunto was never meant for sustained usage. The effects may do more harm than good in your state and I have no idea how it will interact with the active effects of the curse!"

Minerva's mind suddenly flashed with Diamantina's face and for a brief ridiculous moment she considered sending a fervent request to her former apprentice. If anyone could find a way to modify a potion, no matter how obscure, it would be Diamantina.

However as soon as the thread of hope flared, Minerva swiftly tamped it down. If anyone needed to remain oblivious to her condition, it was _also_ Diamantina.

"I shall monitor your condition closely as soon as you receive the potion," Poppy said firmly, holding out the prescription and not quite meeting her eyes, "If there is any sort of negative reaction with the curse we shall have to reevaluate your treatment. And while I would feel much better knowing that you intend to seek a second opinion with Renata… we both know that shan't happen."

"Very well," Minerva replied stiffly, ignoring the small dig as she accepted the proffered parchment and slipped it into her pocket.

Across the desk, she saw Poppy sigh heavily and fix her with another pitying expression that abruptly rankled. Drawing her robes in around her body, Minerva rose in a smooth motion and fixed her friend with a cold look.

"I need not remind you of Healer-patient confidentiality, Poppy, however I _will_ say that your discretion in matters concerning my health is not only appreciated, but vital," she said softly, "While I appreciate your continued concern, it would not do to dissolve the confidence of the Order at this tenuous stage of its redevelopment. They need a leader, Poppy… and I intend to fulfill that role for them for as long as I am able."

Grey eyes widened and Poppy had the grace to look somewhat abashed as she rose and folded her hands across clean white robes. Thin lips were pressed into a worried line.

"I understand," she replied softly. "And I'll do what I can to make things easier for you."

Minerva smiled tiredly and inclined her head gently.

"Thank you, Poppy. That is all I ask."

* * *

"Lady Granger, good even and twenty."

The slightly wizened voice startled Hermione from her notes and she looked up, flashing a smile as Stelios' stooped figure drew closer to the candlelight upon her makeshift desk. She had been camped out in the library for close to five hours.

"Master Stelios," she replied quietly. "How fare you this good e'en?"

Carefully brushed silver hair glinted in the soft glow as the Elf peered over her careful stacks of books with interest, his small spectacles refracting a spray of gold upon the heavy leather bound ledger that contained her Potions thesis.

"E'er the gracious apprentice dwells, mind bewitch'd by Athena's spoils. Verily, her trials shall pass with distinction, methinks."

"Thou speak'st kind words, good sir," Hermione replied, smiling softly as she set aside her parchment and quill. "May the gods grant them true. Howe'er I daren't count my dragons. T'would not do to make a liar of you yet."

"Nay, do not think I flatter, child. I cannot look greenly an' well I know the will o' th' Fates… thy diligence is soon to be rewarded. How rare the eagle's keen eye keep company with the lion's noble spirit. Forsooth, what honor the graceful griffin bestows that she bears her mighty stead 'pon thy Master's name," Stelios inclined his head gently, gracing her with a rare smile as Hermione's cheeks flushed.

Before she could stammer out some sort of thank-you, the Elf folded his hands behind his back, his features returning to their typical expression of thoughtful contemplation as he moved to perch upon a shorter stack of books to her left. Unlike Eleni's bubbling personality that could often be difficult to predict, Stelios was unflappably serene in a manner slightly more reserved than Master Kallas.

He had been nothing but kind, patient, and gentle since her arrival, and while Hermione had connected to Eleni much faster, she always valued the elder Elf's counsel… and found herself looking forward to spending time with him in the coming days as he continued to assist in her understanding of Mastery culture.

"Now turn we to your comfort… hast thou finish'd the book I presented thee?"

Hermione shifted as she recalled the large tome Stelios had given her on Wednesday. A good amount of the book had been devoted to Wizarding customs and culture from the late seventeenth century and had been mind-numbingly dull, if truth be told. The differing expectations of gender had been infuriating enough through most of it, and then she had uncovered several chapters devoted to proper dress which had almost made her slam it shut in frustration.

"I' faith did I consider it," she replied slowly. She thought she saw the bright blue eyes flash with amusement for a moment before Stelios' ears lifted in interest. A small hand rose to adjust his spectacles absently.

"What sayest thou?"

Hermione drew in a deep breath, somehow understanding that despite her actual opinion, she was being challenged to give the book a favorable review.

"A respected house of scholarship to be sure," she began, mind rapidly trying to think of something positive. "Full often hath I question'd the winter 'pon our world, perceiving it did I, paled by frost and Muggle scorn. My thoughts did turn where'er Persephone doth tread - and I see now the remembrances of sweet spring… commended was I to fain embrace of our gilded history and Hecate's guidance. The past buys not the advancements to our station."

Stelios nodded thoughtfully and Hermione waited, unsure of whether her words had been a touch too honest (as was becoming the typical feedback from all her new teachers).

"Howsoe'er strange, if you fall in the fickle hands of nature, trust that Spring ascends with each solstice as surely as Apollo rises with his chariot each new morn. I trust thee to fare the weather well."

A small hand rose and made a brushing motion as though to clear the air between them and Hermione relaxed, knowing that their language exercise was momentarily concluded.

"Very good, Miss Hermione. A truly dreadful book, is it not?" Stelios asked with wry smile.

Hermione fell backwards against the couch, realizing belatedly that their practice conversation had already reinforced the lessons in posture and behavior that Ana had begun teaching. She had been sitting with crossed ankles and a rather straight spine. She sighed indelicately, pressing the heels of her hands against her aching eyes for a long moment.

"How much of what I read should I expect at the Quorum?" Hermione asked, trying - and failing, to keep a tinge of despair out of her voice.

"The language is the greatest constant," Stelios' raspy voice and Greek accent was strangely reassuring, "However undoubtedly you have recognized the clear gender expectations that shall underscore a good amount of the proceedings. It was important for me to elucidate the history behind much of what you will experience."

"Ana has shared some as well," she replied tiredly. "Witches are largely ornaments and wizards are all gentlemen."

"Then I trust Mistress Ana has informed you that the Kefalas line is notorious for upsetting the balance of power," Stelios responded, fixing her with a knowing look, "A bit of opposition has done the Societies well, I believe."

Hermione gave the Elf a skeptical look as she sat forward again, wiping a hand across her face.

"Am I going to have to wear a corset?"

Stelios surprised her by chortling in amusement before shaking his head swiftly.

"By Hippolyta's Line, I should certainly think not," he said, still smiling softly, "Though undoubtedly a number of your company will choose to don such ridiculous wear. However it is not common, my dear. Did Master Kallas not explain her order at Anastos'?"

"She might've," Hermione mumbled, slightly embarrassed to realize that she didn't really remember. Last Wednesday seemed like a lifetime ago and meeting Yiayia and Ana had swept aside the mundane nature of the fitting itself. To be honest, she had no idea what her master had ordered for the both of them.

"I will tell Mistress Ana to explain more of Society dress in your next lesson," Stelios said kindly, "However, I expect the Master simply ordered a number of dress robes for Quorum meetings themselves. You shall both return to Athens on Tuesday for a second fitting and you shall understand more then."

Hermione nodded, feeling a small wave of discomfort at the Elf's gallant tone. While she knew that Stelios was a Free Elf, his adherence to the traditional manner of addressing witches and wizards sometimes made her feel awkward.

"And then of course, I believe she provided two options for the ball -"

"Ball?" Hermione interrupted sharply. Blue eyes narrowed slightly.

"I shall also make a point to encourage the Master to share the official itinerary with you," Stelios intoned by way of explanation. Hermione's mouth opened and closed before a sudden wave of panic flooded through her.

"Itinerary? Wha - Stelios… there's going to be a ball? Like, with _dancing_? As in… I have to look nicer than usual and _dance_ on top of it?"

The Elf's ears drew back and Hermione had the distinct impression that Stelios was regretting the rather large slip he had made. He adjusted his spectacles with a careful hand.

"Miss Hermione… forgive me, I did not mean to cause consternation," he replied slowly, "It was my error in assuming you would have knowledge of general Wizarding customs. A majority of social gatherings often include dancing, and at most formal events, conferences, meetings, et cetera, one can expect a ball. "

Hermione pinched her brow, feeling her cheeks flush in embarrassment as she discovered yet another facet of Wizarding culture that she hadn't yet learned. Though, with the interruption of the War back in Great Britain, she supposed that the scattering of events she had attended had not prepared her to understand that balls and dancing were apparently commonplace… and not an old-fashioned remnant of a bygone era.

A number of Shakespearean curses floated through her mind.

"Hermione? Is everything alright?"

The musical voice cut through her thoughts and Hermione had to shut her eyes against the spiral of embarrassment that arose at realizing her discomfort had roused her Master. Fortunately, Stelios came to her rescue before she could answer.

"Master Kallas, good evening. Miss Hermione and I were simply discussing the itinerary of the Quorum," Stelios said pleasantly, standing and giving the witch a small bow in greeting, "It seems the matter of the ball was rather unclear."

Tired, frustrated, and suddenly feeling more overwhelmed than she desired, Hermione glared through her fierce blush and decided to focus her eyes upon the stack of Muggle medical journals to her right rather than the soft ivory figure in her periphery. Her eyes smarted and she swallowed the lump of emotion in the back of her throat. _Merlin's saggy ballsack, g_ _et it together! Don't you dare cry over the thought of a stupid ball!_

She heard silken robes swish quietly.

"I see. If you would allow us a moment in private, Stelios?"

"Certainly," Hermione felt the Elf turn toward her, "I commend my duty to your ladyship."

"Good e'en, Master Stelios," Hermione replied, her voice tight, "Please you, I'll meet with you 'pon the morrow."

"By your leave, good Mistress."

A small _pop!_ and Stelios was gone. Hermione took a shaky breath and adjusted, moving to the right as Master Kallas alighted upon the sofa next to her, bringing a reassuring breath of tea tree and eucalyptus. Despite her embarrassment, the witch's presence was steadying.

"All of your teachers tell me you have been conducting yourself rather diligently, my Apprentice," Master Kallas murmured, settling into a rather formal position.

"Thank you, m'lady," Hermione replied automatically, wrinkling her nose as she realized her mind was continuing with her language lessons despite Stelios' departure. She took a deep breath and straightened, finally turning to look at the witch beside her who was observing her with a warm gaze.

"Regretfully, I did not realize there would be a ball at the Quorum," Hermione explained softly, "The news was not as welcome as Stelios had hoped."

"The itinerary arrived this morning," the witch opened her hand expectantly and Hermione knew that the parchment in question was likely being Summoned, "Forgive me for not speaking with you sooner. I wished to give you the day for your studies."

"I fear it is you who must be willing to forgive me," Hermione replied sadly, absently realizing that her speech patterns were still a bit off, "I do not have much experience with dancing and I am now learning how important a skill it is to the Wizarding world at large. It seems I have made an error."

Master Kallas hummed softly and turned to pluck an envelope from the air as it sped towards them. Dark fingers seemed even darker in the soft radiance from dying candles and Hermione realized that the hour must have been growing later than she realized.

Still, she shifted closer out of curiosity as Master Kallas handed her an artfully embellished parchment - noting the official Transfiguration Society seal at the top of the page and a smaller gold stamp at the bottom indicating that the schedule had been approved by the ICW. She frowned, realizing that the Quorum's itinerary would likely be rather public if the ICW had seen fit to stamp the letter.

The thought made her rather uneasy.

Hermione skimmed the letter quickly, pleased to note that the majority of events indicated she would be able to remain at Master Kallas' side. That simple fact was slightly reassuring, though she found herself biting her lip as she eventually found the listing for the Open Society Ball on the second evening. _Strange they would put the ball in the middle of the conference and not the end…_

The thought jogged another memory.

"Will there be a meeting of just the Senior Mastery?" Hermione asked, thinking of Ana's words from the night previous. She felt a flicker through their bond and gathered that her master hadn't been expecting the question.

"Yes, however it is usually omitted from the official itinerary out of respect to the affected masters," the witch replied, her musical accent stronger than usual.

Hermione found herself absorbing the tired expression and slight darkness beneath the seafoam eyes with a softening heart. She wasn't the only one who had been working hard in the last week.

She knew that Master Kallas had been rising earlier than usual and visiting Konstantinos' gym on her own time as well as making a number of trips to Athens on account of her preliminary research for Guatemala.

"But the ICW will be notified, nonetheless?" Hermione asked after a moment, wondering how secure the Quorum would be. _That would be like having the Ministry of Magic host an Order meeting._

"Seeing as the Quorum shall be held on Atlantis, there is little that will remain outside of their view," Master Kallas answered, "The security measures across the island are… intense."

Hermione frowned, again disturbed to think that the ICW could be running interference upon private Society events. _You should do more research to see who is appointed to the ICW's Security Council…_

She buried the thought as the parchment was plucked from her hands and returned to its envelope with graceful hands. A flourish banished it away and she bit her lip as Master Kallas angled herself toward Hermione and grasped her hands gently.

"Now… as for the ball, I have no doubt you will comport yourself with all the grace and elegance of which I know you are possessed," dark curls fell across her master's cheeks and the voice grew soft, "However, should it please you, either Ana or I can see to a few dancing lessons before next weekend."

"You," Hermione replied immediately, finding herself leaning forward as she inhaled the witch's heady reassuring scent. Full lips dipped into a gentle smile.

"Hermione… you needn't worry," Master Kallas said softly. "I have every faith in you."

Hermione sat back, shaking her head slightly as she remembered the Yule Ball at Hogwarts and at least two victory parties after the War where it has become more than evident that dancing was not a skill that came to her naturally.

Before she knew it she was standing, inhaling sharply as she stepped over her master's silken robes and the pile of books that Stelios had been sitting on a moment earlier. Despite the witch's kind words, Hermione knew that Master Kallas had never seen her dance.

"No… I _do_ need to worry, Master. I'm not graceful… I have no rhythm. I will dishonor the both of us for certain! I'm like a... a drunk bowtruckle!"

A hand on her wrist brought her up short and Hermione turned back toward the soft glow of candlelight, a tear finally making its way down her cheek as she opened her mouth to protest.

A firm body was suddenly pressed up against her own and she froze as soft lips fluttered against her skin, her own body flooding with warmth as the shorter witch pressed onto her toes and carefully kissed away the trail of tears limning both her cheeks. The tender action was completely unexpected.

Gentle hands grasped her arms and Hermione felt herself lean forward, catching the light breath of perfume mingling with the witch's sweet scent. Seafoam eyes flashed up to hers and her lips parted of their own accord.

"Dia…"

Her voice emerged as a breathy plea and Hermione clamped her lips shut as Master Kallas pulled back, an amused smile playing around her lips as her hands traced a delicious line down Hermione's arms.

"Now _that_ is something that I would like to see, my darling. Do you think bowtruckles can even become inebriated?"

Hermione barely saved herself from rolling her eyes as Master Kallas chuckled.

A small hand lifted one of her own to rest upon the witch's shoulder as the other was grasped firmly. She shivered as Master Kallas drew closer, sliding a hand across her low back. It seemed that a dancing lesson was inevitable whether she wanted one or not.

"Sh-shouldn't I be the one leading?" Hermione asked softly, "I mean… I'm taller, aren't I?"

An elegant eyebrow lifted in amusement and Master Kallas simply held her for a moment as she gazed upward into Hermione's eyes.

"Traditionally, Society rules dictate that the senior witch or wizard is to lead a dance, regardless of gender. As such, you can expect to be led for the majority of invitations you may receive at the Quorum. If you are approached by a fellow active Apprentice and you do not know their classification, then gender usually provides the standard," dark lashes fluttered for a moment before the seafoam gaze steadied itself, "Unless you should be approached by a fellow female Apprentice of equal or lesser classification in which case, whomever is extending the invitation will likely lead."

Hermione's brows knitted together as she nodded, eyes flicking down as Master Kallas wet her lips. The witch tilted her head.

"Did you find it curious that the ball is to be held in the middle of the convocation?"

Master Kallas was observing her quietly and Hermione nodded again, thoughts drawn back to her earlier question. It seemed strange to place what was essentially a party in the middle of a rather serious weekend.

"The ball is… an invitation itself, Hermione. It is the opportunity in which the Society gives itself over to the _passionate_ nature of its members. Do you catch my meaning?"

"Do you mean… everyone is there to… to _find_ someone?" Hermione asked, blushing at the intimation and cursing inwardly as her reaction reflected her own naïveté.

Fortunately, Master Kallas continued without acknowledging her discomfort.

"Not everyone, but many," she agreed. "Classifications shall be set to one side as will allegiances to one's own Master or Apprentice. For the majority of the Quorum we shall be considered one 'unit,' so to speak… there are a number of visual cues that shall indicate our active status, however at the ball, we shall attend as individuals. Each witch and wizard is allowed and sometimes expected to avail themselves to the possibilities, as it were. It is placed in the middle to allow for a bit of pleasure to infuse the convocation… and to potentially alter the course of the final day, depending on the metaphorical players."

Hermione tilted her head as she absorbed that bit of information, mind immediately swimming with new questions. The ball was strategically important, that much was clear. Was she somehow expected to go along with those aforementioned possibilities? What did that even mean, anyway? And… _what about Master Kallas? Are both of us expected to… become players?_

"What do you mean, people are _expected_ to avail themselves?" Hermione asked carefully, electing to focus on the subtle pattern of the other witch's robes as she voiced the more general question on her mind.

Master Kallas' sure gaze faltered for a moment and fell to somewhere beyond her shoulder. Hermione stiffened and then relaxed as the gentle fingers holding small of her back suddenly moved in absent circles; She wasn't entirely sure that the witch was even aware of her subtle ministrations.

"Societies occasionally function in similar manner as the convoluted world of politics. Not all arrangements and alliances are garnered through words and writing. Sometimes actions and behavior speak _louder._ "

The hint of innuendo seemed clear.

"You mean if I want to get ahead in Society, I need to _sleep_ with the right people?" Hermione asked sharply.

Seafoam eyes snapped back to hers immediately and Master Kallas shook her head firmly.

"No. You certainly do not and nor should you consider matters to be so black and white, my darling."

Master Kallas sighed and dropped her gaze again.

"While there are witches and wizards who go about their business in such a manner, it is not my way, nor would I argue, is it the way of the Society's majority," Hermione willed herself to listen carefully, brushing a thin curl away from the shoulder she was holding and receiving a gentle smile in return, "The ball, however, is an opportunity to subtly garner the attention of colleagues in a more informal manner… which can sometimes involve intimacy of a sort, though it doesn't necessarily lead to sex every time."

Hermione frowned, still not understanding the difference.

"Take you and I at this very moment, darling," Master Kallas murmured, lifting her chin to indicate their close proximity, "We are having a perfectly normal conversation though we are inhabiting a rather sensual space, are we not?"

"Yes…"

"Perhaps this is all we shall do. Perhaps we shall take a walk outside where you shall tell me of your thesis and how it applies to my own research. Perhaps you wish to sit at the periphery of the room and ask whether or not I shall be accepting an additional apprentice in the next year or so. Or perhaps we shall dance, engage in small talk, amuse each other for a dance or two, and resolve to stay in contact."

"So it's a networking opportunity…"

"First and foremost, yes," Master Kallas said, her eyes fluttering as a brief blossom frustration passed through their bond, "However it is imbued with as much or as little sensuality as we wish. And within that… there is still the voice of Society overall. Perhaps we are two Masters dancing together because we wish our Apprentices to become acquainted with one another as they watch us from afar. Perhaps I, as your Master, dance with someone whom I believe would be beneficial for you to know… and subsequently ask them to find you at a later point in the evening."

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Or perhaps I dance with the Apprentice of your rival as a show of my good faith and manners… while also delivering a glancing blow to your rival's reputation?"

Seafoam eyes glowed in amusement, appearing a shade of dark turquoise in the low light.

"Perhaps, indeed," Master Kallas purred softly, "And perhaps that action results in your formal acknowledgement the following day, thus bringing both of us a bit more respect from Society."

Hermione sighed, eyes sliding into the distance for a moment as she thought. So the ball would likely prove her greatest opportunity do a bit of investigation and to make important advancements… _Hmmm._

She had thought the meeting of fellow Apprentices would be most illuminating, but now it seemed that she had been wrong. Everyone would be in attendance at the ball… which offered a wider audience upon which to practice her new skills of investigation and subterfuge. _It seems you have a bit of Slytherin in you after all…_

"How open is the ball itself?" Hermione asked carefully, mind suddenly swimming with new possibilities.

Stelios and Ana had indicated that glamours and masks would be worn for a good amount of the Quorum's proceedings given the nature of its "open call." Several hundred people would be in attendance and masks were a nod to the security risk that everyone would be taking by attending. However "openness" was also another term to refer to the masks themselves… and even a quick glance over the itinerary had indicated that not all of the proceedings would need to be so clandestine.

Master Kallas inclined her head thoughtfully.

"That preference remains with the individual. Considering we shall be on Atlantis and security is excellent, I anticipate most will elect to go openly un-masked or with minor decorative glamours in place. Everyone will be less recognizable in their formal wear which shall help matters further, and it is understood that openness with one's appearance also correlates to… a certain _willingness_ to engage with others."

 _Again with the innuendo…_ Hermione still didn't quite understand what to expect. _Perhaps Ana can explain further…_

"What will you do?" she asked curiously.

The question brought her master up short and Hermione was surprised to see a dark blush grace the witch's cheeks.

"I had not yet considered the matter," Master Kallas murmured quietly, their bond rolling with a peculiar feeling that Hermione couldn't quite identify.

Her eyes raked across the porcelain features, suddenly realizing that in little over a week she could be watching the same features glow from someone else's attentions. Something flip-flopped in her stomach and Hermione found herself abruptly focusing on a shelf of library, counting books as she deliberately distracted herself in the way that Ana had taught her the night previous.

"And you, darling?"

The quiet question was surprising in its intimation and Hermione's own cheeks flushed as the tables were turned. She counted another shelf before thinking of an answer.

"What would you have me do?" she asked softly, turning to the witch with what she hoped was a shy gaze. Dark lashes fluttered and the hand at her back grew still.

"Whatever pleases you, my Apprentice."

Hermione inclined her head gracefully, content to remain silent on the matter for the moment. She filed her master's response away for later. Likely she would wait and proceed with whatever degree of openness proved most advantageous. Inwardly, she opened Master Kallas would approve.

"Well… all of this was to say that dancing is but one aspect of the ball, my darling," Master Kallas said briskly, giving her a fond smile. A devilish thought occurred.

Hermione slid her hand from her master's shoulder to stroke the back of the long neck suggestively, "Which is to say that if all else fails I have full license to depend upon my feminine wiles?"

She was briefly surprised at how quickly the witch responded, arching into the touch as her lips parted; Hermione smirked, feeling a rush of power even as Master Kallas' blinked and straightened suddenly, another blush staining high cheekbones.

"You do."

The reply was more curt than she expected and Hermione frowned in concern. Turquoise eyes flashed before lowering and something twisted in their bond again, flaring briefly before quickly being smoothed over. Her mind flooded with a sudden realization. _How did you miss that?_

"But… you will be jealous if I do?" Hermione asked incredulously, noting the small crease of frustration between dark brows before Master Kallas returned her gaze with a faint smile.

"No, my darling. I shall respect your actions just as you shall respect mine," she replied serenely, squeezing the hand that she still held gently. The strange warmth that had stirred in her chest was abruptly quashed and Hermione shoved it to one side, realizing that it was not something she could consider at the moment.

"Of course," she replied smoothly, returning the smile with a peaceful one of her own.

Her eyes passed over the witch's face again, attempting to discern whether or not their shared words were true, but Hermione knew that Master Kallas was likely partially Occluding. Their bond was as placid as the Lake on a calm summer's day and she buried the swirling feelings that threatened to disrupt it.

Something had just been agreed between the two of them and Hermione wasn't sure that she liked it… or even completely understood it.

She would have to unravel her thoughts in private.

"Now, my darling. As wonderful as it is to hold you in my arms, I believe I promised you a lesson?" Master Kallas asked coquettishly, lifting an expectant eyebrow.

"Nothing was promised," Hermione retorted, batting her lashes dramatically, "However a lesson would be greatly appreciated nonetheless."

A pleased hum greeted her ears and Hermione smiled, refusing to falter even as another, deeper part of her mind questioned the suddenly flirtatious tone that they were taking with each other. Beneath her smile, confusion roiled.

 _What is happening between us?_

There were a number of matters that bore further scrutiny but Hermione steadfastly refused to give in to her perplexity as Master Kallas patiently explained the different dances she could expect to experience at the ball. Hermione shifted into dutiful apprentice mode and pressed her fatigue and questions to the corners of her mind as she listened.

The candles flickered as they began to move in tandem and soon Hermione was reassured that while dancing would perhaps not become her thing in a matter of days, she wasn't quite as terrible as she remembered.

And beneath her serene smile and self-conscious chuckling, Hermione realized that perhaps she was learning faster than even she realized.

Quickly and carefully, the thought was buried.


	45. Chapter 44

_A/N:_ _To answer a bit of previous feedback, I realize that the "adventure" part of the plot has taken precedence in this story... though I assure you the romance factor is carefully planned and approaching soon._

 _In our characters' lives, many things transpired over the last "two weeks" - international events, threats at the Ministry, whisperings of conspiracy, etc... I would imagine a majority of those topics would hang heavy for most people, and our main protagonist has been struggling with her own identity and role in the midst of this. Not necessarily the greatest backdrop for romance, though I do promise that a few unexpected matters will soon prompt some new sparks.  
_

 _As I said at the beginning... this promises to be a long-haul on the HG/MM path and we've barely chipped into the full calendar. I'm terrible, I know...  
_

 _Meanwhile, for those concerned for Minerva - rightly so, she's not well... however I imagine her arc will force her to confront the way she's been living her life for the last several decades. And perhaps there have already been a few clues to hint at what might be done to save her..._

 _Thank you always for reading and reviewing :)_

* * *

 **Sunday, Nov. 28, 1999**

A cold breeze blew in from across the sea and Dia shivered slightly as she crossed her chambers, inhaling the comforting scent of salty brine as the curtains billowed and tossed in the fresh air.

Outside the clouds were hanging low and she could see a distant shadow of rain coming across the stormy slate gray waters. Somehow the weather seemed to echo her mood and Dia moved slowly as she packed a few more items into a small bag and assembled her parchments, maps, and assorted documents upon her bed. A distant murmur of voices indicated that Hermione was awake and conversing with both Elves, the three of them likely waiting for her to emerge and wish them goodbye.

A flash of guilt passed through her and Dia pursed her lips, quelling the familiar sense of unease that preceded any sort of clandestine mission. As soon as she was off everything would likely slide into place… and all her hazy worries about not having spent enough time with her family or Hermione would quickly evaporate.

 _Besides… this is a reconnaissance opportunity… it is highly unlikely you will engage with anyone significant at all._

Waving her things to the chaise lounge in the other room she strode into the bathroom to cast one last look over her appearance.

Unlike her usual silken layers, Dia wore a plain set of shabby brown robes and scuffed boots. Her curls were pulled back into a severe bun at the nape of her neck and she had taken extra effort to ensure that everything about her appearance was as plain and unmemorable as possible, even going as far as to mask her usual scent with Muggle soap and olive oil.

Following her arrival at the MACUSA checkpoint in New York, Dia planned to conduct her own minor investigation into the missing witch's academic life in Palo Alto. Elizabeth Waterhouse had been on faculty at Stanford and Dia planned to drop by the university before departing for the country's southern border with Mexico. If all proceeded to schedule, she would make an illegal crossing through the Gulf that evening before arriving to Belize and continuing southwest into Guatemala itself where the more challenging work would begin.

If her research had paid off, it would likely be an uneventful journey aside from any intelligence she could discover… and it could also give her opportunity to investigate the ISOS violation at the Golden Gate bridge in person before departing the west coast. Both Minerva and Renata had been apprised of her plans, the former returning with a simple stamp of approval, the latter receiving only silence.

Dia sniffed at her reflection and closed her eyes.

If the Healer wished to be difficult, that was to remain on her. Soon there would come a time when ego would not serve.

Dia had decided to make no effort to assist in the mediwitch's simplistic plans that Minerva had forwarded to her on Tuesday, though fortunately, it seemed that Renata's schedule would only have the potential to overlap with her own by half a day.

Reopening her eyes, Dia leaned forward and was pleased to see a nondescript shade of brown return her stare. Such a small transfiguration would be easy to maintain through the States' security checkpoint, and her documents gave little indication of her Transfiguration Mastery. To the international eye, she was still a small-business owner from Thessaloniki dealing in obscure potions ingredients and rare brews.

Satisfied that her most recognizable trait was successfully hidden, Dia set off, waving a hand to close the veranda doors as she passed through her rooms and waved her small bag to follow. All that was remained was seeing to Hermione's schedule and bidding her goodbyes.

The sound of cheerful voices greeted her ears and soothed her anxious nerves as Dia strode down the long hallway, turning right and blinking slightly as she stepped into the cool morning light of the kitchen. The Elves were seated across from her apprentice at the kitchen table, Hermione's dark skin peeking out from the simple ivory robe draped around her shoulders.

The sight of the witch's rumpled hair and glowing cheeks made her heart constrict for a brief moment… and then the image was interrupted as all three figures turned toward her, their shared amusement abruptly dying as they absorbed her modified appearance with somber expressions.

"Kaliméra," Dia murmured softly, ignoring the stares and moving toward the center island. She waved over an ivory coffee cup.

"Master," Hermione replied quietly. Even as she added cream to her cup, Dia could feel the weight of caramel eyes observing her solemnly.

"I trust Yiayia has informed you of the weekend's schedule?"

Dia moved to take a seat next to Hermione, eyes focused on her coffee as she knew her temporary transfiguration would prove unsettling.

"Of course," Hermione shifted and unconsciously angled herself toward Dia, causing a small ripple in her chest, "I expect most of today will be spent in the library reviewing my Transfiguration thesis… Yiayia plans to pick me up for dinner. Tomorrow Ana will be working with me in the morning and depending on Melina's availability with the children, I will either meet with Konstantinos in the afternoon or evening."

Dia smiled faintly and nodded, glancing up to see both Elves watching them carefully.

"And you know that both Eleni and Stelios shall be available if you need anything."

" _Do not worry about me, Master… I am not a child,"_ the reply in Greek caught her off-guard and Dia turned, surprised to find Hermione watching her with an amused expression, " _Please be careful?"_

" _Of course, my darling,"_ she replied immediately, feeling a wave of pride pass through her at Hermione's words. Greek was not an easy language to learn and a majority of her apprentices had stopped trying after they had learned basic conversational phrases. Their bond rippled with warmth and Dia watched as caramel eyes raked across her face as though attempting to memorize it.

"I wish I was coming with you…"

Hermione's voice was low and soft and Dia barely noticed when two small _pops!_ occurred in swift succession. The faint blend of vanilla, honey, and cinnamon reached her nose and Dia found herself leaning forward toward the younger witch.

"Continue studying diligently while I am away. Your assistance will be needed during the Quorum and soon after… the more you can learn, the sooner you can remain at my side."

A honeyed hand snuck forward to smooth Dia's hair and she bit back a shiver, her lips parting automatically as Hermione's hand slid down her neck, a soft thumb gliding across her throat.

"Don't do anything foolish."

Rather than reply, Dia closed the distance between them and leaned forward to envelop Hermione in a smooth hug. Soft curls tickled her cheeks and she felt firm hands slide across her back and pull her close.

Though they had embraced many times before, their bond blossomed with a full pleasing warmth and Dia had to stop herself from pressing into the firm body against her. Beneath the thin layer of silk she could feel the heat of Hermione's strong, muscular body and the quiet desire to fold herself into witch in her arms and caress her one last time as a lover would flashed through her mind like a bolt of lightning.

Strong hands tightened around her and Dia took a deep breath before slowly extracting herself, pulling away and averting her eyes. Hermione would have felt the pulse of her desire, she knew, however there was no time for quiet conversation. Besides, no matter the situation, she disliked long goodbyes.

Dia rose swiftly, summoning her bag as she vanished her cup of coffee away.

"Fulfill your duties, my Apprentice," Dia intoned quietly, adjusting her robes before finally lifting her chin to gaze at the young woman sitting before her.

Caramel eyes met her own in understanding and Hermione inclined her chin, peach lips curling upward in a soft smile.

Before she could give in to the uncharacteristic rush of anxiety that washed through her, Dia vanished in a cloud of white smoke.

* * *

Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of their guide.

The nameless witch was a fireball despite her obviously mature age. Upon popping into an abandoned alleyway, he and Ron had immediately been assaulted by the strange woman who appeared as though Summoned and Harry was still having a hell of a time trying to figure out why their initial diagnostics hadn't revealed her presence.

She had stepped out from behind a dumpster with a grin, providing a short code phrase that had assured them she was friend not foe. Unlike most Magical folk, the witch had worn an impeccable royal blue ensemble beneath an elegant ivory coat and had promptly transfigured their robes into tailored Muggle business suits and overcoats that Harry had to admit were rather dashing. Her quick summary of their travel plans was efficient and thorough and he hadn't missed how the witch wielded her wand with assurance that had almost reminded him of Headmistress McGonagall.

After arriving, they had taken a circuitous walk through Muggle London before hopping in a taxi, the witch switching accents to argue with their cabbie whose loud Cockney had assaulted his and Ron's ears. Harry had been surprised at how well the woman seemed to know her way around Muggle London and even more impressed when she had argued over a radio broadcast attempting to rank the top ten football matches of all time.

The cab ride was a bit tense and Harry hadn't missed how Ron clutched his wand beneath the warm black overcoat nor how his friend had continued muttering under his breath, trying to memorize street names as his eyes had darted out the window suspiciously.

They finally arrived to a quiet area in the suburbs and abruptly stopped after a roundabout, the mysterious witch counting out Muggle money deftly and calling after the cabbie with a pleasant wave, and Harry's nerves immediately settled as they stepped into the bright ambiance of a small well-lit restaurant.

The reassuring smell of homemade food assaulted his nose in a mouthwatering blend of spice and warmth, and a quick glance around indicated that there were a number of families and young couples scattered about. It seemed like a nice enough establishment and Harry briefly wondered how Hermione or their mystery guide had happened upon the place.

A quick glance over his shoulder indicated that Ron was just as surprised by the locale as he was, though his friend appeared a bit more uncomfortable - likely due to the unfamiliar environment and his Muggle clothes. However bright blue eyes suddenly lit up and Harry knew that he had spied their friend.

Harry followed Ron's gaze and spied Hermione sitting toward the back of the restaurant, curls pulled back into a casual twist and features peaceful as she spoke quietly with a waitress.

Walking over, Harry felt a flush of pride as he absorbed the witch's elegant figure.

While he had been startled by her transformation at the Order meeting, seeing her in Muggle clothes revealed just how much Hermione had changed. In form-fitting black trousers and a rather beautifully tailored emerald blazer that set off her dark tan nicely, he could see that his friend had somehow transformed into a stunningly pretty witch - one who appeared strong and confident as well as unexpectedly… sexy.

Harry hid a blush as Hermione suddenly turned, her features lighting up as they strode over.

"Harry! Ron!"

Embracing Hermione felt good. The remainder of Harry's nerves fell away as he breathed in the witch's familiar scent, pleased that the hug felt as reassuring and comfortable as it had nearly a year previous.

"Hermione, it's _so_ good to see you," Harry said quietly, a smile breaking across his face as bright white teeth flashed for a moment before disappearing into Ron's arms. Ron's lanky form fairly enveloped her and then Hermione was stepping back, a fond smile settling upon her features before addressing the mysterious witch that had led them.

"Yiayia," Hermione dipped into a gentle curtsy that seemed both out of place and entirely becoming, "Thank you so much for delivering my friends."

The shorter witch gave Hermione a fond smile before sweeping forward and embracing her warmly. He briefly caught the flash of bright blue nails before the elder woman withdrew.

"My pleasure, Hermione," hazel eyes flicked in their direction, "Always a pleasure to help… and what a _wonderful_ opportunity for observation."

The witch now known as Yiayia winked and Hermione glanced over her shoulder to send them a happy smile.

"Thank you," Harry returned, extending a hand, "It was quite the journey."

The witch's eyes danced as she returned the handshake with a strong grip before sharing one with Ron.

"Of course," Yiayia replied smoothly, "I apologize for the subterfuge. Hermione shall fill you in… and please feel free to stay as long as you like. The owners of this restaurant are old family friends and they have assured us that your meeting is welcome," the witch winked again, "I hear the ouzo is to _die_ for."

Ron sent him a confused glance and Harry shook his head to indicate ' _later_ ' as Yiayia swept forward to kiss Hermione's cheeks.

"Call me when you are ready, darling. I just have to nip over to Latvia for a moment and then I'll be in Diagon Alley," she whispered.

With a final twinkling wave, the witch departed - pausing at a rather full table to murmur something quietly that made the large family laugh in delight before raising their glasses toward her amongst enthusiastic shouts of "opa!" even as she swept toward the door with a broad smile.

Harry chuckled quietly and shook his head, assured that whomever Yiayia was, he wasn't likely to forget her anytime soon.

"What's ouzo?" Ron asked, turning back toward the two of them with a jovial expression. Harry sniffed and shook his head. Sometimes his friend couldn't resist asking questions that could wait until later.

"A type of Greek liquor… it tastes like licorice," Hermione replied easily as they slid into their seats, "It's ninety proof, so unless you want to wake up with a headache tomorrow, I suggest taking it easy if we try it later."

Ron snorted in amusement and Harry felt a flush of nostalgia as he realized that both he and Ron had chosen to sit across from Hermione, falling into their old school habits with ease even as a waitress floated over with a water pitcher.

Harry waited with raised eyebrows as Hermione deftly pointed to the menu and asked some sort of question, smiling softly as the woman replied with something that made her laugh.

"You speak Greek?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I'm learning," Hermione murmured, blushing lightly as she folded her hands demurely, "I've been spending more time with a few local friends. My master's family has been helping out a lot too."

Caramel eyes waited until the woman disappeared and then flourished her fingers quietly. Harry felt the telltale rush of magic sweep past them and quickly deduced that she had non-verbally and _wandlessly_ cast a few privacy enchantments. Before he could voice his appreciation, Ron beat him to it.

"Geez, Hermione… what do they have you working on over in Greece?" Ron asked, his blue eyes wide, "Since when can you, y'know… do the wandless stuff?"

Hermione sent them a lopsided smile.

"Don't think I can do a good amount of it. It's definitely hard, but I've shifted my focus a bit and started working on it more. It's quite useful," she replied softly. Her eyes crinkled into a light smile and once again, Harry found himself appreciating his friend's beauty with new eyes.

"Well, you look great," Harry blurted before promptly feeling his ears burn, "I mean… not that you didn't before. It's just… it looks like your new life is really agreeing with you."

"Thank you, Harry… that's very sweet of you to say."

Hermione beamed at him even as Ron whacked his leg under the table, clearly indicating that _he_ had wanted to compliment her first. Their friend remained oblivious as she sipped her water, caramel eyes flicking between the two of them happily.

"So, tell me about the Academy. How is your training? Oh! How did your practicals go?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply and shut it in confusion. Ron shared his bewildered look. _How did she know about those?_

"Relax… Master Kallas said that Minerva said that _the Weasleys_ had said you were both studying," Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes lightly. "Honestly, I don't have superpowers."

"Yeah, whatever," Ron mumbled, chuckling softly.

"Things are really good… it's been tough, but I think we both feel that we're on a pathway that matches our goals," Harry put forth, glancing at Ron for confirmation. "Gawain Robards is our class advisor - you saw him at the Order meeting… he's kind of taken us both under his wing and I'm pretty sure he's going to take us both on as apprentices next term when we move on into more fieldwork."

"Gawain's amazing," Ron was nodding seriously, "He reminds me a bit of Remus but with a harder edge. The man has seen _a lot_ … and unlike some of the other teachers he does a good job of balancing what happened to us during the War with what we're capable of now."

"So you don't have to address your teachers by their formal titles?" Hermione asked curiously.

Harry laughed. Trust Hermione to pick up on such a small detail.

"No… only if we're out in the field or shadowing them someplace that people will care - like the Ministry, maybe. But there's only eleven people in our cohort and eight professors total, the majority of whom have already seen us at our absolute worst," he explained, "When the work is this hard… and these people are testing your limits, your greatest fears, and then pushing you to go past them… the titles kind of just fall away."

Hermione nodded even as Ron laughed and shook his head.

"I can't even imagine calling Gawain 'Professor Robards' on a daily basis," he chuckled. "The man has literally cleaned up my piss, vomit, blood, and gods knows what else. I'd probably trust him to deliver my firstborn."

Hermione's eyebrows rose up toward her hairline as Harry explained.

"He's talking about last year during our Fear unit. They're extra hard on recruits in the first year of training because they need to weed out people who are serious from those who are just looking for thrill and adventure," he told her. "During the second term we all had to face a series of practical tests in which they essentially try to terrify us in every way possible so that we can master our instinctive responses and still get through a series of tasks."

"Did anyone drop?" Hermione asked softly. Dark eyes seemed rather sad.

Ron's lips twisted.

"Only one. She was a phenomenal witch… but… some things happened to her and her family during the War and she had to call it quits when she couldn't get through it," he said softly and Harry sighed as he remembered.

Jeannine _had_ been absolutely phenomenal… but the Academy existed to test an individual's limits. All of the professors had been right there with them as they had worked through the Fear unit as individuals, and there had been a number of St. Mungo's Healers available who had also provided services. Harry himself had realized just how much baggage he had left over from the War... and Gawain and the others had been there to patch him up afterwards. They were the closest thing to family he had ever experienced - aside from Ron and Hermione, of course.

"We were all proud of her though," Harry finished. "She took care of herself in the end and that was far more important than getting through the training. She wrote us a letter saying she's currently in therapy and it's one of the best things she's ever done for herself. Gawain says she'll still be eligible to come back anytime in the next three years if she wants to finish."

Hermione's eyes were shining with some sort of unidentifiable emotion and Harry was briefly surprised when she simply smiled softly and nodded her understanding.

"I see that you've both grown in many ways," she said quietly, her eyes momentarily hidden as she looked down toward her hands. Something about the opaque statement told him that their friend had more to say, but that she wasn't quite ready to put it forward. Harry briefly noted that her palms looked rather worn and calloused, and that their tanned backs had a number of scrapes and smaller nicks. _Potions_ …

A moment later those hands flourished again and the noise from the restaurant suddenly blossomed as if someone had turned up the volume. Harry turned to see their waitress returning.

"Wow, that was fast!"

Ron's appreciative comment was underscored by the arrival of several steaming plates and Harry's mouth watered as Hermione grinned at both of them.

"I figured that you might have already eaten lunch… but from the looks on your faces it seems I was right in guessing that you could still stand to eat a bit more," she laughed, "I took the liberty of ordering our meal before you arrived."

"This is insane! D'you eat this stuff everyday?" Ron asked, looking over the different plates with wide appreciative eyes. Hermione took a moment to murmur something to their waitress that might've been a thank-you before responding.

"Not everything. This is a spread you might see at Sunday lunch with the full family, but generally we try to stick to a cleaner diet than this."

"What for?" Harry asked, inhaling loudly through his teeth as the flavored fry he put in his mouth nearly scalded his tongue. Ron chortled.

"Master Kallas and I both train fairly intensively to stay in good shape. You've probably learned the same thing at the Academy, no? Physical strength has a direct correlation to magical strength," Hermione briefly stood to dump a few more items onto their plates.

Harry experienced a surreal jolt as he realized his friend suddenly reminded him of Molly Weasley. Before he could ask after the witch's curious statement, Hermione was pointing at different things on the table and giving short explanations of everything they were eating.

For a few undetermined minutes, everything felt as it had during their old times together at Hogwarts. Ron was highly impressed and kept making a number of asides declaring the Muggle cuisine nearly as good as his mother's, which was high praise indeed. Harry was happy to tuck into the unexpected meal with enthusiasm, though he couldn't help but notice the smaller differences in the witch across the table, the least of which was her changed appearance.

Hermione had grown… and the small differences he and Ron had picked up during the Order meeting seemed to magnify as they continued their meal. She seemed more confident and self-assured, that much was certain - not that she had been awkward or ungainly at Hogwarts, but there was simply a newfound poise that she exuded that made her seem much more mature and elegant than he remembered.

The brief mention of exercise became apparent when Hermione had deftly tugged her sleeves back to reveal toned forearms, and Harry finally recognized that a good amount of the witch's change seemed to involve her physicality. Hermione looked _strong_ … and more present in her body which was far cry from the stooped, anxious girl he remembered who had always been weighed down by a satchel full of books.

Eventually the conversation came back around and his friend managed to get at the heart of things first as Harry helped himself to a third round of something called spanakopita.

"So what do you do, then?" Ron asked between mouthfuls, "For your training, that is?"

Hermione paused and dabbed her mouth gently.

"Most mornings I wake up and go for an hour swim. Afterwards I'll alternate between hiking or rock-climbing on the nearest mountain, otherwise a combination of running or weight-training," Hermione said casually, taking a demure bite of something she had called _moussaka,_ "It's been quite fun, actually."

Harry and Ron exchanged an incredulous look. _Their_ Hermione - Queen of the Library and bookworm extraordinaire - was professing _enjoyment_ of physical activity? The concept was rather astounding and Harry briefly realized that he couldn't recall one instance of having even discussed the concept of exercise with their friend.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Hermione snapped, rolling her eyes, "Hogwarts was hardly the place to stay in shape, and if it hadn't been for Quidditch, neither of you two would have done much either!"

"Touché," Ron replied easily, shoveling some sort of lamb dish into his mouth. The groan of appreciation inspired Harry to put some on his own plate.

Hermione shook her head and sniffed.

"I see time hasn't changed your table manners," she quipped lightly.

"I'll have you know that I can be perfectly civilized in polite company," Ron retorted, flashing her a messy grin. He nudged Harry's elbow, "Tell 'er, Harry!"

"What was it that Umbitch had me write? Oh right, 'I must not tell lies'," Harry replied good-naturedly, flashing his left hand toward Ron. The scar still stood out against his skin in a shiny white scrawl.

Ron chortled and pounded it with his own fist before turning back toward his plate. He froze with a fork halfway to his mouth and Harry glanced across the table to see Hermione staring at them with a stricken expression upon her face.

 _Oh… shit._

"Merlin, Hermione, I'm sorry…" Harry said softly, his fork clattering to the plate as he reached out to grab her wrist, "I forgot myself for a moment."

Thin tendrils of guilt wrapped around his chest as Hermione visibly took a breath, her lashes fluttering gently.

"It's fine, Harry… I suppose I just never imagined you'd be able to joke about something like that," she said softly, not quite meeting his eyes.

The feeling of guilt intensified as he and Ron shared a look.

"Hermione…" Ron began softly, "It's not that we've forgotten. And we certainly haven't dismissed what happened to us during the War. It's just that… in the course of our training we had time to confront the past and work through all the terrifying psychological 'what-if's' that continued to haunt us. Umbridge is a thing of the past and we've moved on with our lives. She can't hurt us, Hermione."

"Gawain calls our training 'guerrilla therapy'," Harry continued quietly, hoping his friend would understand, "And that's kinda what it was like. It was hard as hell… humiliating at times, but we got through it. Everyone around us was supportive and most importantly we were able to face up to our greatest fears and _own_ them. I guess along the way we also learned that having a sense of humor really helps keep things in perspective."

Caramel eyes were bright with unshed tears and Harry cursed inwardly, forgetting how sensitive Hermione could be.

"I understand."

Harry sat back slightly at the unexpectedly clipped tones, brows furrowing in confusion when the moment seemed to pass and Hermione regarded them both with a serene expression. He blinked in surprise.

"You are right," she said clearly, her voice strong and stable, "Umbridge is a thing of the past and I'm proud of you both for having made strides to move forward. And she _is_ a bitch, by the way."

Their friend sniffed lightly and stabbed a stray vegetable with her fork.

"You're… sure you're all right?" Harry asked uncertainly, brow furrowing as he searched his friend's features.

Hermione's expression softened and she twirled her zucchini absently.

"Yes. Forgive me… I didn't expect your comment, but I understand why you're able to joke about it. I suppose I'm so used to being around others who didn't participate in the War that you caught me off guard with the reminder. You of all people deserve to make light of things if you're comfortable enough. Perhaps it is good practice to put such things out in the open."

Harry resisted the urge to look at Ron for reassurance as a number of other questions suddenly surfaced in his mind, the least of which was his friend's unexpected reaction. _She's so… calm. So… rational._

So completely unlike the witch he remembered. At least, when it came to her emotions.

"How are you, Hermione?"

His quiet question caused his friend to still slightly and Hermione set down her fork and sat back for a moment. The serene expression faltered and Harry caught a glimpse of the more stormy depths beneath before beautiful features smoothed over again.

"I _did_ mean it when I wrote that I was 'fine'," Hermione replied slowly, giving him an amused smile, "But I suppose with recent events, I would add that I'm feeling confused. Tired from the extra lessons I've been putting in with my master and members of her family. Anxious about the course of my Apprenticeships and a few upcoming Society-related events. And a bit guilty and conflicted that I've decided not to return to Great Britain immediately."

"A person couldn't feel that many things at once. They'd explode!"

Hermione's lips curved upward into a slow smile as her eyes flicked over toward Ron.

"Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have."

A moment later they were all chuckling with the familiar joke even as Harry felt a surge of affection for his friend.

Ron always knew the right thing to say.

"Go on… keep eating," Hermione sighed, shaking her head with a smile, "I'll get to everything that I promised. I have a lot to tell you both today and we have plenty of time. Besides, you haven't tried the _kolokithokeftedes_ yet!"

"Bless you," said Ron, eliciting another eyeroll.

"They're _good_ … try them with the tzatziki," Hermione insisted, dumping two small fritters onto Harry's plate with a flourish.

Harry smiled at his friend across the table, realizing that it felt good to have her nag them slightly. It was like a small puzzle piece of his life had returned to its place and he briefly felt a flash of appreciation that time and distance hadn't managed to change the friendship that would always remain.

However beneath that, something else tugged… and Harry was surprised to find himself watching the witch across the table with a careful eye. Hermione had obviously changed and grown in ways that suited her, but he couldn't help but feel that the witch was holding onto things with more history than perhaps he or Ron could comprehend.

It was an unsettling feeling… and Harry wondered just what else their friend had in store.

* * *

Ron nibbled on a fry absently as he listened to Hermione speak, her hands gesturing elegantly as she regaled them with a brief overview of her new life as an apprentice.

From the circuitous way she spoke of her new life and her varied activities, he had gathered that she didn't live on the mainland of Greece, but likely on one of its many islands. It was also clear that wherever her master lived, it was bound by a Fidelius, and that even if she had wanted to share the location, she couldn't.

That had been easy enough to take in stride and Ron had briefly felt apologetic for prior bouts of irritation back when the witch had first moved out of Great Britain. Hearing about her new life and her studies helped alleviate his worry, and from the enthusiastic way that Hermione spoke of her master, Ron could understand why she was so enthralled with her studies. The witch sounded like an incredible mentor.

"- will all lead toward a number of practical and theoretical exams before I submit my theses to both Societies for academic review," Hermione was saying, fingers delicately dousing a fry in liberal amount of tzatziki.

"So what _are_ your theses, then?" Harry asked, brow furrowed even as Ron reached out to smack him with the back of his hand. Sometimes his friend could be so dense.

"Harry, you can't just _ask_ her. D'you really remember nothing from our debates on Magical law last winter?" he hissed, glaring as Harry gave him a bewildered look.

Hermione's eyebrows were lifted in amusement as she watched them from across the table, clearly surprised that he was coming to her aid.

"Until her work is _published_ in a public forum, it's taboo! It goes against her Mastery contract to talk about it!"

Harry sent him another glare before pinning Hermione with an apologetic expression.

"Don't worry," she said quickly, holding up an understanding hand, "It's all very convoluted. Fortunately for you, I'm just in my first classifications, so I can't be greatly offended for the question. Anyone higher though, you'd probably be groveling."

Hermione sent Harry a soft smile.

"How many classifications are there?" Harry asked curiously and Ron rolled his eyes before whacking him again.

"You can't just _ask!_ "

"Well how I am I supposed to know this stuff if it's all secret?" Harry asked angrily, whacking him back. "Merlin… I can't just _divine_ it, all right? 'Sides… it's Hermione… I'm making an _effort_ here."

Across the table Hermione finally laughed - a bright musical sound that was both familiar and entirely alien in its rippling elegance. Ron sniffed and shook his head.

"Honestly, Harry… don't you _read?_ " he asked seriously, eliciting another laugh from both his friends.

Hermione's cheeks were glowing and Harry rolled his eyes as he raked a hand through his hair. Black tufts stood up in every direction and Ron clapped his friend on the back reassuringly as Harry sighed loudly. Harry was getting better, but sometimes Ron still forgot that he hadn't grown up in the Wizarding world.

"Society rules prevent me from talking about that," Hermione replied eventually, her eyes still twinkling as she sat forward to explain.

"Basically this arrangement continues to exist because of our history with the ISOS. Masters and apprentices were frequently persecuted together prior to the ISOS because they used to enter into contracts with one another that would tie their magic together. Part of those arrangements were for ease of learning - a master could better help their student if they understood more about how their student processed information… the other part was for safety. If one of them was captured by crusading Muggles, the other had a better chance of coming to their aid."

Ron wrinkled his nose as he shuddered lightly. He never liked hearing about the ages prior to the ISOS for the sheer insanity that history seemed to reveal. It was almost unfathomable to imagine crowds of angry Muggles tearing apart innocent families due to fear… or to think about those old masters trying to teach their students in secret, going as far as _binding_ their magic together in a vain effort to keep each other safe.

 _Insane..._

It was noble, yes. But still insane.

A glance to his right indicated that Harry was avidly trying to understand and despite his own internal monologue which felt so black and white, Ron knew that some aspects of their world would still elude his friend for many more years.

"After the ISOS, the world obviously became much safer… however it still took several more decades for the old fears to die away. And by that time, Societies were already well established, and rather than protecting _themselves_ … masters soon began protecting their lines of research. It's continued through to now, and Societies continue to supersede Magical law on occasion because the rules that bind us are just as severe, if not worse at times."

Hermione leaned across the table and placed a hand between them, clearly willing Harry to understand.

"Our work is _sacred_ , Harry," she said softly, "The higher you go in any discipline, the more magic begins to blend the laws of nature. Society rules forbid us from discussing our work with unqualified persons simply because some of our research would be far too dangerous to let slip into the wrong hands. We are also forbidden of speaking of our classification systems because it would endanger those whose research presses against some of those laws."

Harry was nodding quietly, a pensive expression on his face as he absorbed their friend's fervent words.

"Makes you wonder why Voldemort didn't just wrangle an army of masters," Ron joked.

Hermione's expression fell slightly and she sat back, twisting her napkin in both hands. _Uh oh..._

"Well… you _did_ hear what Minerva said at the Order meeting. Her former apprentice might be involved and even though he was dismissed, it still doesn't bode well that he abandoned Society rule," she murmured quietly. Ron wrinkled his nose.

"Since when do you call her Minerva?" Harry asked curiously. Ron rolled his eyes and bit back a snarky comment. _Of all things to ask…_

Unexpectedly, the question caused Hermione to smile in a soft and distant manner that made his heart clench slightly.

"Well it's no secret that she was my Master's Mistress, so I don't see the harm in talking about it. In Society, her relationship to Master Kallas makes her my Eminent Mistress… it's considered an honored role in our 'Family,'" Ron's eyes zeroed in on full lips that worked to conceal a smile as it threatened to blossom again, "And also, simply because she asked it of me."

Ron's eyebrows lifted slightly, though he supposed it wasn't _that_ surprising. Of the three of them, Hermione had always been closest to their former Head of House, and even if the Headmistress of Hogwarts remained a tad too intimidating for his own liking… he could definitely imagine her regarding Hermione with a bit more equality now that she had essentially decided to follow in her own footsteps.

"So, even if he didn't attain a Mastery, he still has the 'Family Secrets'?" Harry asked, clearly bringing the conversation back to the Headmistress' mystery apprentice, "Are you worried about what he might have learned from McGonagall?"

Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully.

"I suppose I am. I understood that Petrus D'Artagnan never finished his first classifications which would have put him in a similar position knowledge-wise to me right now. I can tell you honestly that most of what I've learned has been theoretical, and everything that I know about Minerva suggests that she would have introduced her apprentices to challenging material in a similar way," she replied slowly, "So, while I'm not concerned that he might've learned research or 'secrets' as you say, I _am_ concerned that he's learned the basics of how Societies function. Much like you and Ron now know how the Academy works and how Aurors are trained to operate."

"So you're worried he'll take on the institutions themselves?" Ron asked soberly. Hermione's lashes fluttered again and her lips twisted.

"Yes… and no. I'm grasping at wands here, honestly," she replied, opening her hands slightly, "But if Minerva thinks he's a threat and is definitely involved in the ISOS attacks, then he's a threat and probably involved. She would have never accepted anyone who wasn't close to a genius, and even if he was lazy as she said… it doesn't mean that he didn't receive a solid foundation for learning Dark magic."

Ron sat back and mused over that bit of information as his thoughts began to turn toward the unfurling mystery that remained before them. Their adventures together back at Hogwarts had seemed so straightforward and clear cut.

Get the Philosopher's stone. Kill the basilisk. Take down Voldemort.

He and Harry had already spoken of their mutual unease regarding the Order meeting and the cards as they currently lay on the table. There were too many unknown variables… and this time, instead of dealing with Great Britain, they were looking at a worldwide conspiracy.

The dark thoughts did not bode well at all.

"Is there anything else you can tell us?" Harry asked softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, giving voice to the question Ron had been about to ask.

Hermione sniffed mirthlessly before leaning back, passing a hand over her loose twist as she frowned at the table between them.

"I was hoping _you_ might have more news from home. Maybe something about Sturgis' death?"

Ron stabbed a fry.

"We haven't really had a chance to speak with anyone about it," he replied honestly, "My father has taken over Sturgis' position as the Deputy Head to the Ministry's Investigative Department, and we're both pretty sure that McGonagall was in on his wife's disappearance, but beyond that-"

"Nothing," Harry finished.

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded before turning and fishing in a small purse at her side.

"I want to give you something."

Harry glanced at him and they both leaned across the table with interest.

"These are variations on our D.A. coins," Hermione explained, handing them each a gold coin, "I've been doing a lot of thinking and I was hoping you would both do me the favor of helping me stay up to date on information as it's happening back home. I'll be of more use if I'm not constantly learning of developments last minute. These coins have the ability to record short messages, and while I'm working-"

"So that means you're going to rejoin the Order?" Harry interrupted excitedly, twiddling the new coin between his fingers.

"Yes," Hermione replied, clearly biting back a smile, "We _both_ are. Master Kallas has agreed to join with me."

"That's great!" Ron exclaimed, genuinely relieved to hear the news. A great pressure lifted from his chest as he beamed across the table, pleased when his enthusiastic response earned a shy smile in return.

"Your master, too?" Harry asked in confusion, even as Ron kicked him underneath the table.

"Certainly, Harry," Hermione replied, her brow furrowing slightly, "Originally I was worried that she was only joining because I was essentially forcing her to join me with our contract, but Master Kallas _wants_ to help."

Ron groaned inwardly as Harry sent him a look. Though he silently _agreed_ with Harry's hesitation, predictably it caused Hermione to sit forward with a glare.

"What?" she asked sharply and Ron winced.

"Well… we've just heard a bit more about her back home, Hermione," Harry said softly, clearly unsure of how the news would be accepted, "We've gathered that she's a bit… er, controversial."

To their combined surprise, Hermione's glare dissolved after a moment, and she simply sighed and sat back, twisting her water glass in one hand as her brows drew together slightly.

"It is difficult for me to talk about my master's personal history without betraying my contract with her or the rules of my Societies," she said quietly, "however, I can speak around those rules because I know that _defending_ her honor is part of my duty as her Apprentice."

Ron was pleased that Harry wisely chose to remain silent even as their friend's soft words elicited an unfamiliar feeling… almost like unease. Something about her phrasing seemed familiar, but it rankled.

"You both know that Master Kallas was part of the first Order," Hermione stated, glancing up to see them both nod, "She joined while apprenticing beneath Minerva. What little I know beyond that is directly from Minerva herself, though you must promise me not to repeat it to other members of the Order and not to go digging around in other people's business."

Ron nodded seriously as Harry did the same. It was clear that Hermione knew more about the mysterious witch than they did and he decided to reserve judgement until learning more. Everything their friend had mentioned in the tales from her new life seemed to indicate the woman was an excellent mentor. If Hermione trusted her, then she clearly had reason for it. They would simply have to wait.

Hermione sighed softly, her expression pensive.

"I don't know the exact details… but somehow Master Kallas was betrayed during the First War and the Death Eaters managed to use her family against her. I've gathered that her elder sister was likely murdered… as well as her nephew and his family. Whatever happened tore her apart and she left before the War concluded."

Ron took a deep breath as he absorbed that bit of information. It certainly explained some of the tension he had witnessed at The Burrow… especially if Hermione's master had left the Order during a critical time.

Loyalty was a big matter in the Weasley household, though after his own experiences and having gone through Fear training with his comrades, Ron could absolutely understand why someone would have left the Order after experiencing such trauma.

"Do you know who betrayed her?" Harry asked quietly.

Ron was continuing to filter through the information he knew about the witch. His mother seemed suspicious of her, but not his father… and McGonagall obviously wasn't, though Gawain had slipped a few other asides to indicate he was optimistically cautious.

All of that together left him feeling a bit divided.

"No… and while I am just as curious about the matter as you, I do not plan to go digging around in her past if I feel it will unearth old suspicions. I ask that you do the same," Hermione said firmly, lifting her eyebrows slightly, "It's probably hard enough for Master Kallas to revisit Great Britain as it is, let alone to have the older members dredging up her painful past."

"D'you think we can still trust her?" Ron asked suddenly, one hand stroking his beard absently, "I mean… knowing that she cut out of the last War, how do you know she _actually_ wants to participate in whatever is coming?"

Hermione's expression suddenly turned thunderous and she sat forward slowly, her eyes growing dark as she fixed Ron with a fierce glare.

"I will not hear a single _word_ against my master, Ronald Weasley, is that understood?"

The quiet tone made the low threat even more terrible and Ron found himself leaning away out of reflex, staring at the lone finger the witch had lifted in warning. In retrospect, using the word "trust" probably hadn't been his wisest moment… but seeing the cold look in Hermione's eyes, Ron felt a chill run down his spine, briefly wondering who this new witch was and where their old friend had gone.

But then, caramel eyes blinked and Hermione abruptly deflated, sitting back with a rueful smile as she huffed quietly.

"Master Kallas has gone out of her way to ensure that I have been kept safe and informed through all of these recent events, Ron. In some ways, she's setting aside her life to rejoin the Order simply because she knows that I can't fathom remaining on the sidelines if the rest of you are mobilizing to counter this new threat. We're going forward as a _team_ … you can trust her allegiance as you do in mine."

"It's sounds like you're rather close," Harry observed quietly. Ron felt a flash of gratitude for the mediating comment as their friend visibly softened.

"We are, Harry," Hermione replied wistfully, "I've… never felt a connection like this with anyone before. Not even Minerva."

Ron's eyebrows rose upward and a small glance to the side indicated that Harry was surprised as well.

That was high praise, indeed.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Ron said softly, reaching out to grasp her hand, "I just… want to make sure we're all setting ourselves up for success. And that, most importantly, you're going to be safe."

Hermione gave him a warm look as she squeezed his hand, her thumb lingering for a moment before full lips tipped upward into a grateful smile. Ron felt a familiar ache blossom in his chest and he flushed slightly before sitting back, trying to ignore how Hermione had chosen to resettle herself - draping across the back of her chair in an elegant yet suggestive manner that seemed entirely foreign to him.

"I trust her implicitly… and I know beyond any doubt that she is on our side, regardless of how she appears to others and what others might say," Hermione concluded, her expression taking on a Sphinx-like quality.

"Now… before we get off track too much, take out your coins. I have a few things I want to show you."

With remembered obedience of years past, he and Harry did just that before catching each other mid-gesture and laughing as they realized how quickly Hermione had managed to order them into submission.

Pulling forward the new coin, Ron glanced across the table to find Hermione watching them with a peculiar expression before noticing his attention and smoothing her features into something more reminiscent of her familiar indulgent smiles.

The shift was quick, but it surprised Ron nonetheless and even as he peered as his coin quietly and marveled at his friend's ingenious capabilities when it came to magic, another part of him silently acknowledged the disconnect he'd been feeling since they'd arrived.

Unlike the honest Gryffindor lioness that he remembered - who had always worn her heart on her sleeve and cried at the drop of a hat, it seemed that Hermione had somehow learned the ways of the serpents… learning to conceal her thoughts and emotions with the care and subtlety more suited to a Slytherin, and Ron realized that incongruity was rather frightening.

He twirled the new coin in his fingers and tried to ignore the weight of the stone that suddenly settled in his stomach. While a part of him hoped that Hermione had simply picked up on traits from her enigmatic master, another part was worried that something had _happened_ to her.

Something he and Harry had missed…

Ron wasn't sure he could handle that.


	46. Chapter 45

_A/N: I've been absent for awhile, I am aware... :)_

 _Thank you for the supportive messages - I am based in the States at the moment and without getting too political I will simply say that the most recent election has felt rather personal and I needed time to mobilize and re-engage. It's been a bit of a journey._

 _Fortunately, I am again between active projects and will have more time to get back on track with my updates and revisions. The break also allowed me time to do a bit more research and I feel more confident about the upcoming course of this particular story._

 _That said - this next chapter is still a bit heavy. There **are** references to violent themes and sexual assault, so tread carefully if that is not your cup of tea. A bit more framing and detail will come later, but for now we are absorbing a bit more about Hermione's history._

 _Thank you again for your patience and enjoy!  
-R_

* * *

The more she learned, the more Dia was convinced that if she had the opportunity to meet Elizabeth Waterhouse in person, she would be quite likely to hex the witch straightaway.

Closing a folder with frustrated sigh earned her a few startled looks and Dia scowled lightly as she resettled, drawing her warm woolen sweater a bit closer around her shoulders as she adjusted her spectacles with a practiced hand.

The early morning was still rather cold, and a glance to her right indicated that only a few poor souls were out, their faces contorted into grimaces as they stumbled to avoid the strong wind and sleeting rain that was casting itself against the window in sheets.

Her arrival to the MACUSA checkpoint in New York had been uneventful and despite the Americans' continued culture of paranoia, their security measures and intricate network of national Portkeys had been most efficient. Somehow Dia had expected more questioning of her plans in the States, but the tired night-watch wizards had barely spared a glance at her prepared itinerary once they heard a few polysyllabic words regarding her supposed "potions research."

Her first stop in Palo Alto had also been rather bland. With the time difference, she arrived just after one in the morning, providing her with ample time to visit the Stanford university campus and to work through Waterhouse's office undisturbed.

It had taken her two minutes and twenty seconds to unravel the witch's active warding - something that the New York Ghost had claimed local Aurors had still been unable to accomplish and a conundrum that continued to baffle No-Maj police. The thrill of a puzzle was something that Dia could never resist, though granted, she imagined being an Architect's niece had given her a significant advantage.

Alongside her skills as an Animagus… well, Waterhouse's ridiculously arrogant wards had stood little chance.

The American Aurory had already set up their own series of rotating diagnostics that had made her job significantly more tricky. Unraveling the wards left her ten minutes of undisturbed snooping before the drop in magic would trigger a series of alarms.

As a result, Dia had been forced to repeatedly unravel and reassemble the witch's wards and work her way through the office in precisely timed intervals. It was frustrating, tedious, and only served to underscore just how much of an egomaniac Elizabeth Waterhouse appeared to be.

Her thorough perusal of the office had eventually told her that the witch was paranoid, vain, a bit ruthless, and unfortunately, a relatively competent teacher.

Over the course of several hours Dia had been able to duplicate the witch's financial history, her last five years of research, a good amount of correspondence and notes related to courses she taught at Stanford, and cursory evidence that suggested Waterhouse had either intimidated or bribed her way into several key sources of funding. Reading through a few emails seemed to indicate that the witch was beloved by higher-ups in the university system but generally hated by her colleagues, and Dia resolved to make a second stop by the campus on her return journey to learn more in person.

She imagined the interpersonal dynamics of the Muggle department would prove fascinating.

A large amount of information had been stored in Waterhouse's computer, and Dia had cursed her lack of knowledge regarding the unfamiliar Muggle technology. Ana had already admonished her lukewarm interest in the new wave of machines and products that continued popping into existence with startling rapidity, assuring her that magical experimentation with the newer lines of technology could easily lead to a boom in economic growth throughout the Wizarding world.

Hermione, she knew, possessed a number of key investments in at least two prominent Muggle computer companies… and briefly Dia had been regretful that her apprentice was not involved in a later stage of her studies. While she herself continued to keep a close eye on Muggle technology and advancements, there were some advantages that Muggle-born witches and wizards continued to hold over her by simple virtue of culture and education.

Doubtless her witch would have been a better hand at extracting Waterhouse's files without leaving a trace. Even with magic, Dia knew that her attempts had been clumsy at best.

 _Your witch?_

The possessive thought drew Dia from her reflection and she sat back slightly, taking in a cursory glance around the increasingly busy coffee shop for a long moment before turning back to her pile of materials.

 _Your apprentice…_ she amended, firmly pulling another stack of correspondence forward. A rough sip of espresso continued to soothe her headache and Dia sighed again as the miraculous liquid slid down her throat.

The best she had been able do with Waterhouse's office computer was to have left a series of magical tripwires embedded in the system. Anyone trying to determine her identity as a hacker would inadvertently destroy the rest of the witch's information. It was crude but effective.

Beyond the computer, the rest of Waterhouse's space had been unremarkable.

The office had been arranged with meticulous care - clearly indicating someone who knew exactly how each bauble and trinket was meant to be placed, and a number of smaller items precariously balanced to preclude unwanted snooping.

Several creative curses had been placed on the woman's extensive bookshelves - too many to unravel in such a short amount of time, though waving away a series of glamours had indicated the witch had most definitely been interested in the Necromantic potential of her latest research. Despite a number of more questionable books, it had been clear that the witch held no actual affinity for the Dark Arts, and Dia realized that she had been disappointed.

As irritating as Waterhouse seemed, the initial evidence suggested that the woman had likely stumbled on matters far beyond her scope… and attracted the wrong attention for it.

It felt far too early to begin tallying innocent lives unwittingly lumped into the category of collateral damage, and Dia had been more than troubled.

By the time she had slipped out of the witch's office for what felt like the thousandth time since her arrival, Dia had more questions than answers, far too much adrenaline in her system, and a splitting headache that demanded no less than a solid liter of coffee before she could even consider delving into all of the materials she had pulled.

The campus had been quiet when she left, an early morning tinge of pale grey light upon the horizon, and Dia had been thankful to Apparate away… arriving into the Presidio and discovering the weather would not allow her to make more than a few basic predictions about the state of the Golden Gate Bridge.

Instead of the reconnaissance she had planned, Dia ended up in the Muggle coffee shop, reviewing her new materials and hoping that the rain would clear enough to allow her opportunity for investigation at a later point in the day. Shifting into her Animagus remained an option, however the risk of being seen was still too great for her liking.

 _There have been enough improbable events in this city for the time being..._

"Excuse me, I couldn't help but notice the array of books you seem to be reading. Are you an archaeologist?"

Pulled from her musings, Dia's eyebrows lifted upwards as her focus settled upon the hopeful visage of a young man standing off of her left elbow, late twenties perhaps, with bright blue eyes and an open smile.

 _Sweet Circe… not now._

She removed her reading spectacles easily before flashing a polite but distant smile.

"I'm just doing a bit of research for a project," she replied evenly, barely remembering to conceal her accent, "I have a report to write."

"Ah," the man's face fell slightly before shrugging lightly and gesturing toward her stack of books, "Well, it seems you must be doing investigation into the early civilizations of Central America..."

Dia smiled and chose to remain silent, hoping the young man would simply leave. Unfortunately her subtle hint went unnoticed as sharp eyes raked over a selection of books she had brought from Athens. Inwardly she cursed her carelessness at not having charmed the covers to something more inane, having considered the Muggle locale enough camouflage in itself.

 _You forgot about the actual Muggles…_

"Waterhouse's book provides a great overview of the intersectionality of art history and religious practice during the Classic Period of the Maya civilization. Traxler's book is a better choice if you're looking for a good overall reference…" the man squinted slightly as he bent to read the smallest print, "However, it seems that Waterhouse is providing a good deal of your inspiration," one hand gestured lightly, "She's a fascinating woman and a brilliant writer - I can see why you would gravitate toward her materials."

Dia's eyes narrowed slightly.

"What do you know of her?" she asked casually, both exasperated and amused when the young man took the question as an invitation to join her. After a moment of endearingly awkward vacillation, he slid into the empty seat across from her with a soft smile and a humble sip of his drink.

Dia absorbed the casual blazer, pressed shirt, and tailored jeans with a careful eye. The man's clean, polished look gave him the appearance of a privileged academic. It was both irritating and reasonably attractive.

Usually American men were so… scruffy.

"I've taken a few classes from her in the course of my studies," the man said. Dia noted that despite his brave overture, he seemed rather nervous.

"Then you're at Stanford," she deduced, tilting her head slightly. Her comment was met with an embarrassed smile.

"Yes. I'm currently working on my PhD in Anthropology, actually… I departed from Archaeology after undergrad."

Dia felt a sinuous smile spread over her features, at once pleased that the unexpected interruption might prove to her benefit.

 _Never look a gift hippogriff in the beak…_

"That sounds challenging," Dia murmured, deliberately pushing her papers to one side and grasping her coffee cup with both hands. The man's face brightened a bit as he caught her interest and sat forward.

"At times," he agreed, flashing a clear smile. "My name is Daniel, by the way."

"Diana."

"Pleasure to meet you," Daniel said, shifting to rest his elbows on the table with a smile. Blue eyes danced for a moment before he gestured toward her materials, "So tell me… what are you working on? With your project that is?"

"Ah, a bit of an oddball piece," Dia replied with a smile, leaning back and allowing herself to slip into the easy role of someone unafraid of a good round of flirting, "Something between the realm of history and abject fiction. There might be hints of magic involved."

"Sounds mysterious."

"Indeed."

* * *

Harry's cheeks flushed with emotion as he gesticulated broadly.

"So then he makes this big fuss about not having _expensive_ European liquor and we should know better than to ask for Akvavit-"

"Yeah, and then he has the gall to pour us two shots of Firewhiskey and make us _pay_ for it," Ron leaned back with an incredulous expression, "As if he didn't _know_ that you had already paid for him to pass along the Portkeys! Bloody hell! The man's a complete tosser!"

Hermione's bright laughter spilled across the table and Harry's ire immediately dissolved into chuckles as his friend's cheeks flushed and she wiped her eyes with a delicate hand.

"Ohhh… gosh, I really _am_ sorry for Aberforth. Though can you blame him for wanting a bit of extra business? Does anyone really _go_ to the Hog's Head on a Sunday?"

Harry snorted as Hermione's apologetic look was met with theatrical grumbles from Ron.

"Yeah, well… Aberforth was just the tip of the iceberg," Harry continued, lifting an eyebrow, "D'you know that your so-called _friend_ dragged us through Soho and half of Fitzrovia before shoving us into a taxi and taking _the_ most roundabout way to get out here?"

Hermione pursed her lips in a failed attempt not to smile.

"I imagine we are quite secure though, no?"

Ron's barking laughter provided enough answer and one elegant eyebrow lifted coquettishly as Harry swore.

Hermione folded her arms across the table and smiled cheekily, white teeth flashing for a moment before she tilted her head attractively.

"Yiayia is my master's aunt… and, while you've already experienced that she's a colorful character, she's been an incredible asset over the past two weeks for her rather _unusual_ set of skills," she explained, "I imagine you both could learn a great deal from some of her more clandestine ways."

Harry's eyebrows rose at that.

"What does she do?" Ron asked curiously. Hermione's amused expression smoothed slightly and her full lips pursed.

"Yiayia's retired," she replied slowly. "She's still a well-respected witch in Greece and she has friends in plenty of high places… though I would imagine nothing less from an accomplished Architect."

Ron's mouth fell open before he let out a low whistle.

Harry immediately knew he was about to experience the familiar discomfort well-known to most Muggleborns, though it irritated him that Hermione suddenly seemed have a wider scope of the Wizarding world than he did. Before, they had usually been well-matched in their lack of knowledge, and while he had heard the implied capital 'A' in his friend's tone, the significance of the profession still eluded him.

Hermione caught his spiraling embarrassment immediately as she reached out a delicate hand to clasp his arm.

"Don't feel bad, Harry. I only started reading about the Architecture Guild within the last two years," Hermione said softly, "It's one of those frustrating things that's both well-known and completely mysterious to the Wizarding world. Though come to think of it, there _were_ mentions of it in _Hogwarts: A History_..."

"Of course," Ron chuckled as Harry squinted. _So what's the big deal…?_

Hermione tilted her head again and sent him an understanding smile.

"Being an Architect is one of _the_ most challenging professions in the Wizarding world," she explained, somehow managing to keep her voice free from the patronizing tone he remembered from youth.

It felt nice.

"All Architects belong to the Architectural Guild which is a profession-based organization similar to a Society but with slightly more open rules. Yiayia said to think of it as a members-only sort of club and that's about all I know at the moment. There are no books on the Guild, just as there are no truly good books on Mastery Societies..."

Ron hit his leg under the table and Harry bit back a snort. The irritation in Hermione's voice was palpable.

"Similar to great Architects of the Muggle world, the Wizarding version depends on a good amount of skill which is part of its inherent challenge. It's a profession that requires someone to be creative and design-oriented, but also incredibly precise and exacting in order to achieve the structural and material demands of the job. And then of course there's _magic._ "

There was a glint in caramel-colored eyes that Harry remembered well from Hogwarts… a spark of interest that only ever appeared when Hermione had found some new sort of mystery or branch of particularly advanced magic that demanded her perusal.

"Architects must have a Mastery-level command of Transfiguration, Charms, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy for most of the practical work that is required," Harry sniffed in disbelief as Ron nodded his admiration, "But they must also have a well rounded erudition of Neuromancy, Magical History, Electromagical Energies, and sometimes also Astronomy, Herbology, and Necromancy."

Next to him, Harry felt Ron shudder at the last and briefly saw Hermione's eyes flicker towards Ron in an apparent expression of annoyance before it evaporated.

"Wow… that sounds complex," Harry said, as Hermione sat forward and nodded. He didn't even know what some of the last branches of magic were but it was clear that Wizarding Architecture was considerably more involved than its Muggle counterpart.

"Architects must be well-versed in so many of the magical arts that it makes them rather scarce. Also, I've understood that you either have the strength of magical ability to become an Architect or you do not. It's a fierce combination of intellect, magical strength, and magical breadth… and it's apparently quite dangerous work."

Harry found himself nodding as he absorbed yet another Wizarding peculiarity with relative ease.

 _I wonder what Architects actually_ _ **do**_...

Maybe they built magical buildings single-handedly and that's why it was so hard. He knew that a building's warding was an extension of its physical structure and _that_ was a complicated branch of magic that the Aurory frequently encountered. _Maybe Architects build the warding?_

It was too big a curiosity to consider over lunch and Harry's attention refocused as Hermione shifted, her wand briefly poking out of one sleeve before she flourished a hand and it disappeared again. Another rush of magic settled in around them and once again, Harry found himself impressed.

"Muggle Repelling Charm," she muttered by way of explanation as Ron gave her a quizzical look. Hermione sat forward and placing her elbows on the table, "I'd like the rest of our conversation to continue uninterrupted."

Harry frowned, glancing at Ron to see an equally troubled look upon his friend's face. Something in their friend's unusually impassive tone suggested that their discussion was about to take another turn.

Their earlier discussion about Hermione's master had been illuminating if still a bit polarizing, and the darkness of current events continued to hang at the periphery of their conversation like an ominous cloud.

It was clear that their friend felt a great amount of loyalty to the enigmatic Greek witch and while Harry had briefly felt guilty for questioning Hermione about her, there were still a number of unanswered questions continued to linger at the back of his mind. Quietly, he had already decided not to give up that point so easily.

The waitress had come to clear their plates and bring dessert menus just after Hermione had admitted to working on a few different Order-related theories. He and Ron had been eager to hear her thoughts, but had become distracted by her explanation of the new D.A. coins. It seemed that Hermione had been using her spare time to also work on inventing new stealthy methods of communication that would have made the Marauders rather proud.

Some of her ideas were rather inspired and he and Ron had contributed with their own thoughts as best they could… and Harry had also found himself wondering what Hermione was _doing_ in her day to day life; somehow he imagined that the D.A. coins weren't on her master's radar - a small thing that made him feel a little better about Hermione's loyalty to the Order, and also a bit out of character for his unfailingly honest friend.

Things were changing faster than he knew how to handle and the first tendrils of unease had begun to wrap themselves through his mind. He hadn't been this unnerved since before the end of the War.

"This brings me toward the rest of the conversation we need to have," Hermione said quietly, one long hand absently turning her water glass as Harry refocused.

"My life is different now. Just as yours are as well… I've met new people, had plenty of new experiences. Master Kallas has illuminated many things for me just as I imagine Gawain Robards has done for you," the elegant hand tucked itself against the edge of the table, "None of us are the same as we were at the end of the War… and I think that's a good thing. It proves we are all growing."

Harry made a non-committal noise of agreement as Ron shifted a spoon aside and nodded, his brow drawn.

 _Where is she going with this?_

"Yiayia is one of the people who has shown me a lot about what it means to grow as a person. Her skills as an Architect prove that she's an incredibly adept hand at most forms of magic and from a few stories I've gathered, I know that she and other members of the Architectural Guild have a history of helping the Order," Hermione paused as Harry's eyebrows shot upwards.

 _That is news…_

He and Ron were still learning just how thick and convoluted the Order's history was… not only in the last War but in the First Wizarding War when they had just been born. The web of interconnected names and wands stretched out far wider than they had ever imagined, though hearing that a whole order of powerful Architects had been involved… _that_ seemed rather impressive.

Not for the first time, Harry found himself irritated that he didn't simply _know_ more about the Order's past business.

"Beyond that shared history, Yiayia has also begun teaching me about how to deal with people," Hermione continued, drawing confused looks from the both of them, "And while a lot of her lessons are helping me prepare for the work to be done in both of my Societies, I realize that they are also skills that will assist in the impending needs of the Order. But before I can begin to delve into that, I need to be assured that I haven't lost your loyalty. I need to know that I haven't lost your friendship along the way… and before anything, I need to first ask for your forgiveness."

Hermione's features were open and apologetic and Harry's first instinct was to reply with some sort of assuaging comment. _Of course she has our friendship… isn't that what this whole meeting is about?_

However he felt his brow furrowed as he took another moment to digest his friend's meandering words.

 _It almost sounds like this Yiayia witch is teaching her how to be a spy…_

Secrecy seemed to be the mandate of all Societies and perhaps, too, this Architectural Guild. It made sense that Hermione would need training to navigate the pitfalls of such communities, but what about her closer relationships? What was she being taught to conceal from her friends?

The thoughts blazed through Harry's mind quickly and he found himself frozen, midway to a reply when Ron cut him off.

"Hermione, what are you talking about?" Ron interrupted, brows furrowed as he leaned across the table impatiently. "You're speaking in riddles. What are you apologizing for?"

Harry suddenly realized that Hermione had been watching him with a rather knowing expression and he felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Caramel eyes flicked away. _Hermione… what are you doing?_

Their friend frowned, but rather than snapping at Ron as Harry had initially expected, she simply sat back with a troubled expression upon her face.

"When I left for my apprenticeships, I told you that it was because I needed to step away from Great Britain and the aftermath of the War. I wanted to get out and see more of the world and to take a break from all the hardships we had endured together. All of that was true. But that wasn't the entirety of my reasoning."

"Hermione…"

"Please," Hermione held up a firm hand, as her eyes floated shut, "Just let me get this out and then we can talk about it further."

Harry found himself swallowing and sitting back slightly, watching as Ron fell silent. Across the table, their friend shifted slightly, her shoulders squaring in a deliberate manner that pulled the emerald brocade of her blazer into a crisp line. Harry realized his mouth had become rather dry.

"I need to apologize for keeping important information from you," Hermione said quietly, her gaze dropping to the table between them, "I need to apologize for keeping you in the dark about things that happened to me toward the end of the War… since they are the reason I've been having trouble writing and staying in contact with the both of you."

The silence at their table was profound and Harry felt an inappropriate flash of relief and gratitude for privacy charms.

That flash was immediately followed by the icy fingers of dread as he absorbed the implication of Hermione's words.

 _Something… happened to her?_

No.

He and Ron had been there for everything… well, _he_ hadn't been there at the very end, but he knew for a fact that Ron and Hermione had remained together for most of the Final Battle. They would have _known_ if something had happened to her.

 _Wouldn't we?_

"When?" Harry found himself croaking and the emerald shoulders stiffened slightly.

"I never told you the full extent of what happened that day at the Malfoy Manor."

While her posture remained resolutely calm, Hermione's face was telling a different story. Harry was suddenly acutely aware of the myriad of micro-expressions flitting across his friend's face - sliding together and changing almost too fast for him to read.

Regret. Pain. Embarrassment. Fear.

Large eyes blinked and full lips parted slightly, drawing in the air slowly as though drinking it in through a straw.

Of all the things that he had imagined Hermione had wanted to discuss, the subject of her torture had never even dawned upon him. A stone had settled deep into Harry's stomach and next to him, Ron seemed to have turned into a statue.

"After they separated us, Bellatrix tortured me with the Cruciatus. You already know that," a light hand gestured dismissively, "The first round, I estimate she only tortured me for about forty minutes. The first was the hardest. She was angry and relentless…"

Hermione trailed off as she frowned distantly.

Harry balked. _Only forty minutes…_

At the Academy he and Ron had heard stories of witches and wizards losing their facilities after twenty. Guiltily, he realized they had never talked about Hermione's torture nor how long Bellatrix had held her under the Unforgivable beyond what she had explained after they had escaped to safety. _Merlin… you never asked her if there have been aftereffects..._

Even if the insane witch had done it in shorter sessions or spurts, the combined effects of the curse would have been… debilitating at best.

And Hermione was talking of rounds. _How many had there been?_

"Bellatrix returned later with a cursed knife to cut 'mudblood' into my arm and to torture me again… but… I left out the point at which she called in the other Death Eaters..."

Dark lashes lowered toward the edge of the table as Hermione tucked her chin.

"She gave me to them. And told them to 'play with me' while I assume she went away to speak with Griphook about the sword."

Harry's stomach churned and he felt a strange sensation of being both hot and cold at once. Hermione's voice seemed to be coming from far away and despite the horror of her words, her beautiful features betrayed little emotion.

"I remember their faces," a flicker of disgust, "The way they laughed at me and pushed me around. I couldn't fight them… I couldn't..." Hermione cleared her throat and her voice took on a strangely clinical tone as she folded her arms upon the table.

"The Cruciatus leaves you oversensitized according to most medical journals. Prolonged exposure inflames the peripheral nerves and creates muscle weakness and an exaggerated or distorted experience of touch. It also disrupts a person's magical core… leaving the body susceptible to threat or injury much like a Muggle's without its natural magical defenses."

Harry felt his features twist into an expression of dread as Hermione's assembled into the ghost of a sardonic smile.

"I was fortunate that Bellatrix was ruthless enough to damage enough of my sensory-motor nerves with her first wave of torture so that I experienced a good amount of numbness rather than immediate or exaggerated pain as the Death Eaters assumed. The Healers managed to repair everything after the Final Battle and they suggested it might have been a last-ditch attempt by my magical core to create a counter-defense," she continued, her voice rather bland, "I suppose I have a few things to be thankful for."

Harry waited, feeling sick to his stomach as the inevitable question of "what happened next?" hung over the table like a tangible Grim. Hermione took a careful sip of water and somehow it seemed that they were all waiting for her to verbalize the answer.

A long moment passed as Hermione's expression grew solemn and pensive.

"I don't know how long it took. I remember Pettigrew. Lucius Malfoy. A witch and wizard I didn't recognize. They all participated in some way. Fenrir Greyback was supposed to wait until the end. But Bellatrix returned after… Antonin Dolohov… he…" Hermione's jaw worked and Harry could almost visualize the words as palpable objects getting stuck inside her mouth.

"He… was the one who… violated me."

Harry felt his eyes widen in horror.

" _Violated_ you?" The disbelieving whisper came out with more vehemence than he intended and to Harry's dismay, his friend's shoulders immediately folded in upon themselves.

"Please… I don't want to go into details," Hermione whispered, her lashes fluttering slightly as she held up a hand. Harry's heart broke and he started to reach across the table and then froze when she moved back slightly, visibly deflating at his effort to connect.

The calm façade that Hermione had exuded throughout their conversation suddenly evaporated and he was faced with a smaller version of the witch that seemed nearly as fragile as the eleven-year old girl he had met on the Hogwart's Express. Harry suddenly had no idea how to respond.

And then Ron sat forward gently.

"S'all right, 'Mione. You don't have to tell us anything that you don't want," Ron murmured reassuringly, his voice soothing and warm.

Harry's eyes skirted over to see his friend's face a patient mask of understanding and concern, remarkably calm in contrast to the hot flush of anger and grief that seemed to be swallowing his own composure.

 _Mother of Merlin… she… Hermione was… she was…_

His thoughts stuttered to a halt as he struggled to even think the terrible word.

A deep breath helped him draw from Ron's smooth expression, but Harry didn't fail to note the way one of his friend's hands was clenched in his lap… nor how his Adam's apple bobbed against a hard swallow.

Hermione exhaled slowly and she nodded, straightening slightly, her gaze still falling somewhere between the edge of the table and her water glass.

"I… don't remember everything anyway. At least, not while I'm awake," a wry smile briefly tinged full lips, "There are flashes. Small details mostly. It's like watching something from someone else's life… except… in the end I _know_ what happened to me. The St. Mungo's report listed everything for me in crystalline detail."

"I didn't know you went to St. Mungo's," Harry said, immediately regretting the second thoughtless blurt. It wasn't that important.

Fortunately, Hermione simply sat back, blinking as though recalling where they were. Long hands twisted for a moment before pressing against the surface of the table.

"The day after the Final Battle. I went with Neville and Luna while the two of you went to the Burrow to arrange for… the funeral," dark eyes flickered toward Ron without quite meeting his face, "Madam Pomfrey sent us for surface injuries because of all the damage to the Hospital Wing… and while I was there I requested that they give me a complete examination. The Healers eventually confirmed it wasn't all just some sort of terrible Cruciatus-induced hallucination."

Harry experienced a brief jolt as he recalled the day of which Hermione spoke. Guiltily, he acknowledged that in the midst of the confusion and grief surrounding the Final Battle and Fred's death, he hadn't even realized that Hermione had been absent from The Burrow.

"You were always welcome with us, Hermione," Ron said softly. "If we had… if we had _known_ what happened, we would have been there with you. We… maybe we could have helped?"

The half-question came out as a throaty croak and Harry pressed his lips together, feeling his own eyes begin to prick and burn.

"I know that, Ron," Hermione replied sadly, her voice regaining a bit more strength, "But there's a difference between knowing something and understanding it. At the time I felt that no one could understand how I was feeling… and so I made the choice to be alone and to carry on. It was… easier than having to face the reality of what happened to me."

 _Oh Hermione…_

Ron looked away and Harry swallowed, trying to dispel the lump that had arisen in the back of his throat as he worked to process his friend's words and experience.

Hermione had endured something that neither he nor Ron could truly _ever_ understand.

While Harry could briefly empathize with the experience of being completely powerless and at the beck and call of someone else's cruelty, the visions and brief face-to-face experiences he had had with Voldemort were completely different.

 _Like comparing apples and oranges…_

Harry didn't know what to say and he immediately hated himself for it. His gut churned with the rolling force of his emotions and he dropped his focus toward his hands which were twisting in his lap ineffectually.

Across the table, Hermione sighed.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole story," she said, after a moment. Elegant brows drew together in an intense expression of concentration and Harry's eyes zeroed in upon trembling lips. Again, his heart clenched.

"I… was afraid of how you would react, I think. But over time I've realized that pushing you away hasn't been helping me to heal. Despite all the new connections I've been making abroad... I've missed having my two best friends at my side. I just... hope you can understand why I needed to take some time. I didn't want anyone to know… and I was worried you would treat me differently. Or that maybe you'd pity me," Hermione ducked her chin and her voice dropped into a whisper, "I don't want you to pity me."

"Hermione-"

Harry froze as he and Ron spoke together, the both of them leaning forward across the table before stopping to stare at each other for a moment. Harry sat back first, waiting as Ron turned back to their friend.

"Hermione," Ron repeated quietly, "You have my sympathy and compassion, but not my pity."

Hermione's lips twitched, but she remained silent, staring down at the top of the table with a determined sort of focus. Harry imagined she might have been steeling herself against their reaction and something in his gut twisted. _Just how did she imagine we would react?_

Ron sat back slightly and raked a hand through his hair.

"I think pity means that there is cause for shame somewhere," he continued, shaking his head slowly, "And… knowing you - one of my two best friends… the smartest, most intelligent, _bravest_ witch I know - I can't think of any reason for you to be ashamed."

His friend took a deep breath and lifted a large hand to place upon the table between them, palm facing up. Hermione's gaze flicked toward it, but she remained perfectly still, shoulders slightly rounded, looking a far cry from the collected, confident witch who had sat before them just minutes earlier.

"What happened to you was not your fault. We were only kids at the time and I know how everyone likes to talk about how the three of us took on Voldemort single-handedly… but _we_ know that isn't how it went," Ron's voice grew softer and more tender, "And even though everyone calls you the Brightest Witch of Her Age - which you _are_ , by the way… that doesn't take away from the fact that we were stepping into roles meant for adults… in a War that we inherited… with stakes far higher than we knew how to handle. It wasn't our _place_ and yet we did it anyway. We did it anyway, but it meant that some of us got hurt."

Harry waited as Ron took a deep breath, feeling his heart ache for Hermione… and swelling with the familiar pain that lingered as his thoughts turned toward the kaleidoscope of dark memories from the War. But beneath all of that he felt a small blossom of pride as he waited for his friend to continue, wondering again, just when the red-haired boy he had met on the train had become such a good and honorable man.

"I hate that you suffered," Ron whispered and Harry could hear the tears coloring the tight words, "It makes me angry in a way that I don't even have words to… to..." the open palm clenched and unclenched, "I _hate_ it. You deserve to live in a world where witches shouldn't be afraid of wizards and where wizards should have the decency to treat witches as the equals that they are. What happened to you was… terrible. Unthinkable. Un _just_."

Ron inhaled quickly and let the air out in a soft hiss before tilting his head and leaning forward, clearly searching for Hermione's eyes.

"And don't you dare think that you somehow are responsible… or that you weren't good enough… or gods forbid, _deserved_ it for not being good enough or strong enough… because none of that is true."

Hermione pressed a hand against her mouth and stifled a silent sob, reaching out with her other hand to clasp Ron's tightly. Silvery tears leaked out from beneath full lashes and slipped down smooth cheeks slowly.

"You are a brilliant witch, an amazing woman, and I… love you, 'Mione. You're one of the best things that's ever happened to me. Don't think I would let you go just because something terrible happened to you."

Hermione rose and halved the distance before disappearing into Ron's strong embrace. Harry dropped his chin and let the flood of tears finally come, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table as he took a shuddering breath.

For a long moment there was nothing but the sound of quietly shared pain. He heard Ron murmur a few more soft phrases and Harry felt the hot flush of his emotion gradually recede as he waited for his friends to break apart.

 _Merlin's beard…_

Hermione's revelation felt like a sucker punch to the gut and Harry briefly wracked his brain as he wondered how he and Ron had completely missed their friend's pain for such a long time. Had she tried to say something to them before and failed? Had there been signs that they had missed?

Of course there had been.

The hazy months leading up to the Final Battle had been tinged with darkness, constant anxiety, numbing confusion, and ever-present fear.

The time they had spent at Shell Cottage had been fraught with anxiety over the Sword of Gryffindor and grief at Dobby's death. Looking back, Harry could only vaguely remember having spent a bit of time with Hermione during her recuperation. They had moved on to planning the break-in at Gringotts immediately and other than her constant need for rest, Harry had been too caught up in his own emotions to notice that his friend had been more subdued than he could ever have remembered.

She hadn't simply been sick and hurting. She had been dealing with trauma.

After the Final Battle there had been other signs.

Unlike he, Ginny, and Ron, Hermione had spent barely any time at The Burrow. After the initial wave of victory parties and funerals, Hermione had been the first to mobilize their friends and community into assisting with the immediate repairs to Hogwarts. She had thrown herself into the work with a passion and Harry had never stopped to consider that her feverish efforts might've hinted at something beyond just simple devotion.

Once the largest repairs had been completed, Hermione had made her journey to Australia with Ron. Afterward, Harry had assumed that her relentless N.E.W.T.s preparations had been the logical response to finding her parents and setting her life back on track. Headmistress McGonagall had spent the most time with their friend, but beyond that Hermione had seemed intent upon becoming a permanent fixture of the Hogwarts Library and not even Madam Pince had had the heart to chase her away.

At the time Harry had simply chalked it up to Hermione being Hermione and wanting to get a head start on her career. He, Ginny, and Ron had stopped by infrequently but had largely spent their time at The Burrow or over at The Rook with Luna. The familiarity of her habits had felt good… as if the world had somehow righted itself if Hermione Granger's only concern was achieving as many O's as humanly possible.

That limited perspective only seemed to underscore how very wrong he had been.

Harry rose as both of his friends sniffled slightly and finally broke apart, chuckling softly as they wiped their noses in a moment of synchronicity. Hermione stepped back and gave Harry a crumpled sort of smile before stepping into his open arms even as her tears began anew.

Automatically Harry found his arms stroking the muscular back as he pressed his lips into the loosely tamed curls. His nose inhaled the warm scents of vanilla, cinnamon, and honey and he felt a wave of unidentifiable emotion come over him as his own eyes burned with fresh tears.

"Hermione, you're like my sister," Harry murmured, his voice tight. "I love you and you're the closest thing I have to actual family," thin arms clasped him tighter, "You _get_ me in a way that no one else does. Not even Ron."

They shared a communal amused sniff as Ron elbowed Harry with quiet "eyy."

"I just… I am so proud of you, Hermione. There's nothing in the world that could make me think of you any differently," Harry said, drawing back and shaking his head as he tried to find the words to reach his friend. He wasn't good at the understanding speeches like Ron was and there were still too many emotions floating through his head.

"We both know that I'm not good at this… and Ron already said the important things," he gave a crooked smile as Hermione chuckled and pressed a soft hand against his chest, "I wish I could've been there for you when you needed it most… but y'know… I think we're all learning that everyone heals in their own time. And I'm glad that you've taken the time you needed and just know that we're here for you now. And we'll always have your back, ok?"

"Oh Harry…"

He rubbed her back soothingly until her tears abated and she drew back with a hiccuping sort of sniff.

"I know," Hermione sniffed again and reached backward to swipe a napkin from the table. Harry allowed her to step back until the three of them were standing in a close sort of triangle to the side of the table.

"I… thank you. I think I really needed to hear that," the soft voice was warm with affection and Harry felt a combination of guilt and reassurance as Hermione gave them both a watery smile before wiping her nose and shrugging awkwardly.

Ron slung a heavy arm across Harry's shoulders as he drew closer, a lopsided smile glowing from beneath his beard. Clear blue eyes seemed rather bright.

"You're stuck with us, 'Mione. Don't you remember?" Ron said, opening his other hand toward her as he gave Harry a friendly shake, "We're in this together."

Harry extended his own hand, and with a half-laugh, half-sob, Hermione rolled her eyes and pressed forward into their shared hug, slinging her arms around their ribs with a fierce grip.

"Good. I wouldn't want it any other way."

Drawing his two friends close, Harry felt a smile break through his tears.


	47. Chapter 46

_A/N: Here's a long one for your patience :)_

 _Please enjoy!_  
 _-R_

* * *

"Welcome to the United States Magical Checkpoint in Austin, Texas. Please have your documents prepared and your wand ready for inspection. All organic items and ingredients must labeled and placed in three-quart No-Zip Impenetrable containers. All Magical creatures must be presented with pre-approval from the MACUSA Body for Protection of Magical Species. Undocumented materials will be confiscated under MACUSA Department of Magical Law Enforcement decree number 394."

Dia waited patiently, refusing to roll her eyes at hearing the overly chipper voice for the twentieth time since arriving to the national checkpoint. Somehow she hadn't expected Austin to be so busy on a Sunday evening, however it was also an International checkpoint and she reasoned that a number of international workers would need to commute through the hub before the work week began.

 _Still…_ she stepped to one side as a large witch holding a potted Venamous Tentacula narrowly avoided a colliding with her robes. _This seems unduly crowded… and tedious._

The elderly wizard before her finally tottered off with his floating purple carpet bag trailing a pair long underwear from one end that Dia simply hadn't had the heart to point out. A tall, angry-looking witch gestured for her to step forward, her black braided hairstyle giving her a rather strict no-nonsense appearance.

"Destination?"

The witch's harsh Southern drawl helped her remain in character and Dia shrank back slightly as she offered her passport.

"Corpus Christi," Dia answered, infusing a bit of anxiety into her demeanor, "Please? Do you know how long the wait will be? I'm told the Double-Crested Kookagnarl are nesting… which shall only last for the next forty-eight hours. Their feathers are particularly rare."

The tall Security witch held up a hand to forestall her chatter, ignoring her question as she flicked through Dia's passport with a heavy hand.

"Address of where you'll be stayin'?"

"I have a room at the Aransas Inn. The address should be written on my reservation parchment," she gestured toward the bundle folded in the back of the small ledger.

The witch's eyes flickered to her with interest and Dia was immediately pleased that the stereotype of butch Security witches seemed to fall into her favor. The small Wizarding enclave hidden on Mustang Island was well-known for its vibrant gay community, though given the MACUSA's iron grasp upon most freedoms, it still remained a word-of-mouth locale.

Dia blinked lightly and flashed a nervous smile.

Hopefully the woman would simply view her as a somewhat closeted academic.

"Fine," her passport was returned along with an appreciative once-over, before the Security witch lowered her voice to a quiet growl, "Try Zelda's when yer there. Good music. Good times, if ya know what I mean…"

The witch's stern face allowed a small wink and Dia allowed her eyes to widen appropriately.

"Next!"

Hurrying away, she pocketed her passport and allowed an internal smirk. If the woman only knew.

 _Zelda's…_

Dia had hazy memories of the witches-only nightclub from a visit while on holiday from her apprenticeship with Neris. There had been one night involving a substantial amount of Tequevón, a Mexican standard which had quickly taught her that Greek ouzo and the ghastly yellowish liquid could not be equivocated.

Waking up in the bathroom of the bar wearing only one layer of robes and hugging a well-greased broomstick had done wonders for her humility and her subsequent vigilance whenever the disgusting liquor was even mentioned. While the witch's suggestion bore a bit of interest, there were _some_ experiences that need never be repeated.

Sniffing quietly, Dia made her way down a long corridor before finding another line for the Floo marked for Corpus Christi. Though she had managed to avoid using the network thus far, Dia knew that Portkeys were generally only allotted for inter-state transportation. Everything else depended upon the Floo and there would have no sense in wasting her energy with such a long-distance Apparition from San Francisco when she still had half the Gulf of Mexico to fly overnight.

"Next."

Dia stepped forward and grasped a handful of grainy powder, breathing deeply as she attempted to prepare her body for her absolute least-favorite method of travel. Throwing it into the flames, she waited for them to glow green, trying ignore the near tease of what her own face would undoubtedly look like in few scant seconds.

"Aransas Inn."

Shutting her eyes against the inevitable embarrassment that was about to befall her, Dia quietly mused that perhaps Tequevón wouldn't be needed after all.

Arriving to the airy entryway of the inn, she absorbed high ceilings, plank flooring, and a few guests milling quietly as she managed one deep breath as the room continued to spin.

Three overly optimistic steps later she became violently ill.

* * *

Hermione found herself smiling as she watched her two friends fight over the last piece of baklava.

"- no cut it _here…_ "

"You're taking all of the crust!"

"Am not! Look. Just scoop some of filling there and it'll be even."

If she closed her eyes, Hermione could almost believe that time had stopped… and she could have been sitting at the Gryffindor table or in the kitchen at The Burrow, or even at tea at Grimmauld Place, listening to her friends argue as though nothing had ever changed.

The anxiety she had felt earlier had given way to a deeper sort of melancholy, and although Harry and Ron had reacted to her long-winded explanation of events with far greater acceptance and aplomb that she could have ever asked for, Hermione still felt a strange sense of loss.

The camaraderie between the three of them had shifted slightly and it was as though she could suddenly see the line of stepping stones that had led her away from her two friends and straight into the complicated world of her mastery, Naxos, and the new demands of the Order, Yiayia, and her relationship to Master Kallas. Even though she had managed to extend the first hand toward healing her relationship with Harry and Ron, deep down Hermione found herself wondering if they would ever be able to regain the comfort and familiarity from years past.

Watching her friends bicker seemed to highlight the different directions that their lives were taking. Harry and Ron had always been close, but watching them from across the table, one could have almost insisted that they were joined at the hip.

 _Almost like… you don't belong anymore…_

" - did the same thing _last_ week with the leftover curry even though it was _clearly_ labeled."

"'Was not! Kreacher would've said so!"

"That's not a good excuse. We both know Kreacher can't read well."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pressed a hand to the center of the table. The gesture was beginning to feel familiar.

"Guys. There's always more baklava. I'm sure our hosts would be delighted to bring over extra dessert…" she sniffed lightly, " _Believe_ me, the Greeks might put Molly Weasley to shame with their insistence on second and third helpings."

Harry had the grace to look momentarily sheepish before Ron gave her a thoughtful look and promptly stuffed the entire pastry into his mouth.

"Ron!"

The taller wizard sat back with an incredulous expression, his large hands gesturing as he said something unintelligible as Harry pinned him with a glare. Hermione snorted and waved their waitress over, tuning out the familiar bickering as she requested a few more items.

"When you guys are finished arguing about food, I have a few more things to share with you and a few more favors to request," she said pointedly, earning two expressions of similar embarrassment and interest.

"Anything, 'Mione," Ron replied immediately, stroking his beard with one hand.

The familiarity of the moment blossomed briefly and Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes again and settled on an indulgent smile.

"Thanks, Ron…" she said sweetly, folding her hands and leaning across the table.

"One of my first requests is going to be the permanent abolishment of that nickname. My _name_ is Hermione."

* * *

"- _really_ must protest! This is simply beyond -!"

"I'll be just a moment, my dear!"

Eleftheria forced her way past the slightly frazzled seamstress, rounding a corner and pressing into the alterations room with a firm shove. The raven-haired woman she sought was waiting inside, chin tilted over an elegant shoulder, one hand pressed against her sternum to keep an unfinished set of emerald robes in place, as one trademark eyebrow quirked upward in annoyance.

The witch stood upon a small alterations platform before a floating mirror and Eleftheria was momentarily caught off guard by her statuesque beauty. She pulled up short just inside the door, falling prey to the weight of the piercing gaze that was unexpectedly free from trademark silver spectacles.

Eleftheria blinked for a moment before finding her usual vivacious smile.

"Well, well, well… Minerva McGonagall, it _has_ been a long time."

"Madam Kefalas," Minerva replied smoothly, "Your presence is an unexpected diversion."

Despite the calm greeting, the witch could not prevent a tinge of irritation from coloring her soft contralto and Eleftheria found herself grinning even wider. She swept into the room and waved the door shut, deliberately finding an alterations stool and perching at an absurdly low level that she knew would only irritate Minerva further.

"Eleftheria, please. Let's not stand on formalities. And come now, Minerva… surely you'd prefer the diversion of my company to the numbingly droll work of acting a statue?" Eleftheria said cheerfully, arranging her robes with an artful flourish.

Minerva's jaw worked for a moment before she turned back to the floating mirror and plucked an invisible hair from the luminous fabric.

"I daresay I was managing just fine."

"Well, I shan't keep you from your appointment," Eleftheria breezed, summoning a few pins and leaning forward to finish the seam that Madam Malkin had been working on. Overhead, she heard Minerva sigh quietly.

"I received news of your presence only a few minutes previous and couldn't resist stopping in... it seemed a marvelous coincidence that our paths should cross so fortuitously! I thought a quick chat would be in order!"

"It seems I have little choice in the matter."

Eleftheria sniffed wryly and patted the hem of Minerva's robes before rising and looking at the witch in the mirror. She lifted an eyebrow, choosing not to respond to the sharp tone. Already Minerva seemed to be regretting it.

"Upon the contrary, Minerva. One always has _choice_ ," Eleftheria replied quietly, standing and circling around to the witch's other side. "Agency is the hallmark of witches such as we two. Who are we if not a product of the choices we have made?"

Eleftheria allowed herself a small thrill of satisfaction at seeing the witch's shoulders drop slightly.

She felt the weight of the emerald gaze watching her as she slipped a few more pins into place along the woman's right sleeve. While the robes remained incomplete, it was clear from the outline that they were going to be stunning once finished.

Unlike the voluminous draperies that Eleftheria remembered from years past, it seemed Minerva had commissioned a set tailored to emphasize her trim, willowy figure.

 _For the Quorum no doubt…_

"There is nothing like a set of bespoke robes to be sure," Eleftheria continued lightly, moving to adjust the waistline slightly, "As Aristotle said, 'Quality is not an act. It is a habit.' True in fashion and also in life, don't you think, Minerva?"

The witch responded with a non-committal hum, clearly waiting for her to arrive to her point.

"Indeed, quality is an element I find lacking throughout contemporary society these days… quality and integrity," she scoffed lightly, "My niece would argue I've been rubbing elbows with far too many politicians, however it _does_ bear scrutiny that they are often the first to succumb to the ease of the unequal compromise or an unbalanced scale, does it not?" Minerva tilted her chin almost imperceptibly, "Though I would imagine a woman of your experience is a dab hand at navigating the complexities of politics?"

Eleftheria summoned her spectacles as she inspected the tacked brocade at the front of Minerva's robes. _Impeccably rendered, if a bit uninspired…_

"Anyway… what was I saying? Oh yes, _integrity…_ " Eleftheria stepped back and surveyed Minerva's reflection in the mirror, "The balance of power, Minerva… it's what our world frequently boils down to, whether we expect it or not."

Minerva remained silent, watching her carefully in a cautious manner reminiscent of her Animagus.

"And with all the hullabaloo of recent international events, well…" Eleftheria trailed off and kept her eyes focused upon Minerva's impeccable posture, "Between you and me, I'll just say that it's up to those of us who can appreciate the value of quality work and integrity to preserve the balance," she smiled softly and lowered her voice to a purr, "No matter where unexpected interruptions may occur."

For a long moment neither of them spoke. _The choice remains in your hands now, Minerva…_

Fortunately, that razor sharp mind read between her opaque words and received the underlying message.

"I wonder, Eleftheria, if you would be available for tea later this afternoon?" Minerva inquired politely, clasping her hands demurely.

Despite the warm tone, emerald eyes remained cold and Eleftheria hadn't missed the barest glimpse of dark firwood poking out from the witch's sleeve.

A Cheshire cat smile spread itself slowly over her face and she lifted a coquettish eyebrow. _At least Minerva still views you as a threat… you've still got it._

"Great minds think alike, Athena."

The witch blinked slightly at the callsign but beyond that there was no discernible reaction across the smooth patrician features. Eleftheria quietly canceled the privacy charm she had cast upon the door. Madam Malkin, she knew, had been attempting to eavesdrop for the last several minutes.

"I shall meet you in front of Slug & Jiggers in forty minutes and we may continue our conversation somewhere a bit more private," Minerva said, continuing to watch her in the mirror's reflection, "I imagine today's weather would be well served by a strong cup of tea."

"Very good, darling," Eleftheria lifted her arms overhead to smooth the fabric across Minerva's shoulders, "That should give me _plenty_ of time to confer with Mr. Ellipebble over my rather distressing case of hemorrhoids. If you ever visit Egypt, darling… be sure to choose the flying carpet over the camelybras. Three humps doesn't leave much room for comfort, I'll tell you that much!"

Minerva _almost_ smiled as she inhaled and turned over one shoulder with an arched brow.

"Until later, then."

"And please give compliments to Madam Malkin for her fine work. You look positively _delicious._ "

Full lips thinned considerably even as Minerva inclined her head at the compliment. Eleftheria didn't bother to hide a full smile as she stepped back and winked.

"See you soon."

Without waiting for a reply, Eleftheria turned quickly and flung the door wide as she strode from the room, pausing only briefly to avoid running into Madam Malkin who pressed herself against the wall with a guilty expression.

"Ah, thank you for allowing me to step into your appointment. I'll just leave a small tip to ensure no hard feelings for interrupting your busy schedule. I'm sure the holiday rush is just _dreadful_ ," Eleftheria gushed, pressing a few galleons into the witch's hand with a firm smile.

"Th-thank you, Madam," the witch stammered, her harsh businesslike demeanor momentarily forgotten.

A thought occurred and before the woman could scurry back to the fitting room, Eleftheria caught her by the elbow and waved the alterations room shut with a subtle gesture. Pressing close to the witch, she lowered her voice and affected a warm, inviting tone.

"Minerva McGonagall remains a good friend of my niece and I find that I have cause for a thank-you gift of sorts," Eleftheria murmured, her face assuming a self-deprecating expression of embarrassment. "I trust that if I add a rather specific item to her order, it could be discreetly included? I am, of course, willing to compensate for the unexpected rush."

Madam Malkin seemed to have recovered from Eleftheria's unexpected presence and her discerning eyes narrowed slightly at the prospect of an offer.

"'T'would depend upon the item," the witch replied haughtily, clearly attempting to regain control of the situation.

"I seem to recall seeing a most promising bolt of dark green silk that I believe would make a lovely evening gown," Eleftheria replied smoothly, a small smile quirking at her lips, "Muggle-style."

There was a flash of interest in the woman's eyes before thin eyebrows drew together and the plump witch frowned slightly, likely calculating time and effort against the promise of a handsome profit.

Eleftheria waited patiently, already knowing that the witch would be hard-pressed to turn down such a unique request. Her sources had already told her that a young Madam Malkin had once chosen to apprentice beneath some of the best Muggle fashion houses in Paris, reportedly giving up magic for close to six years.

"I can leave the specifics with your assistant, however let us say that I am leaning toward something that combines the avant-garde nature of… oh, who's that splendid young man who recently ascended to the throne of Givenchy?"

"Alexander McQueen," Madam Malkin whispered in a faint voice, her eyes wide.

"Ah yes, _him_ … I knew it was something unforgivably chic," Eleftheria murmured, waving a hand, "McQueen mixed with the timelessness of… oh, say, Chanel or Yves Saint Laurent?"

The witch simply blinked at her, likely trying to rationalize how an obvious Pureblood such as herself knew so much about Muggle fashion.

"Do you believe three hundred galleons to be sufficient?"

Bribery hadn't been on her agenda for the day but Eleftheria was nothing if not flexible.

* * *

The waves crashing gently upon the long stretch of abandoned beach was reassuring and Dia allowed herself a long moment to simply appreciate the natural beauty of the moment. The salty tang and sharp breeze were so different and yet so similar to the environment on Naxos; if she closed her eyes, she could almost believe that she hadn't traveled halfway around the world at all.

Padding a bit further away from the waves, Dia pulled her robes a bit closer around her body and sighed tiredly as her aching feet sank into the cool white sand. Sea birds were calling to one another in the dying light and the Double-Crested Kookagnarl were indeed nesting, though she couldn't summon any enthusiasm to search the grassy dunes for their elusive roosts.

Following her rather unpleasant arrival to the Aransas Inn, Dia had lain low in her room for much of the evening - electing to call for room service rather than have dinner in the formal dining room that overlooked the Gulf of México. Her entrance had been notable enough and the less interactions she held with other visitors to the inn, the better.

After all, it wouldn't do for anyone to question her absence over the next two days.

Dia cast a Warming Charm over her robes and meandered a bit further down the beach, giving every appearance of outward relaxation even as her senses remained on high-alert, her mind still reviewing the information she had obtained earlier that day. Even though she knew her Disillusionments were well cast, it never hurt to be cautious.

Her impromptu conversation with Daniel had yielded mixed results - confirming her own impressions of Elizabeth Waterhouse's interpersonal relationships at Stanford while unearthing a bit of new drama with regard to the witch's current project.

It seemed that one of Waterhouses' past endeavors had been called into question for failure to properly cite adjustments to her budget and there had been a call to suspend her work in Guatemala just days before her departure. To the dismay and anger of her review board, the witch had ignored the accusations and left the country without so much as an apology for her actions.

To say Waterhouses' colleagues were incensed seemed like an understatement.

The young Muggle man had been a helpful resource, and against her own wishes, Dia had been drawn in by his easy conversation - though it had been harder and harder to prevent her questions from growing more pointed as their discussion had progressed. Obliviation had never been her strong suit, but after the young man had bravely asked after her number toward the end of their talk, Dia had been forced to pull a slight slip of the hand over his coffee.

Wincing, Dia tucked her arms into the rough fabric sleeves of her outer robe and pressed her guilt away.

Daniel would likely awaken tomorrow with a painful headache, a mild case of dehydration, and absolutely no memory of his entire weekend.

 _Better a headache than yet another innocent life taken too soon..._

A rustling noise in the dune grasses startled her from her thoughts and Dia turned into the sound immediately, wand drawn, and muscles coiled. There was a flash of white and a fluttering of feathers and a piping plover suddenly soared overhead, its bell-like whistle thin and tenuous as the sound was nearly swallowed by the wind.

The weather was beginning to take a turn and Dia took a moment to look back down the stretch of beach she had just walked.

Despite the notable lack of civilization, she felt jumpy and anxious. The hair on the back of her neck was standing on end and her stomach churned even as her rational mind was forced to conclude that she was indeed alone.

 _How long has it been since you flew a journey of this length?_

Scuffing a toe in the sand, Dia turned and made her way up the sloping dunes to sit within a gentle valley of sand littered with long grasses and bits of driftwood. Her hands slid over her pockets again, confirming for the tenth time that all of her materials were carefully stowed and contained out of visible and magical sight. There could be no mistakes when it came time to leave.

Low clouds were beginning to obscure the deepening night sky and a moist chill seemed to have settled upon the air, causing Dia to shiver despite the Warming Charm. Setting a tempus, she hunkered down, steadfastly refusing to transfigure her environment to be a bit more hospitable. She would meditate until night fell in earnest and hope that the overcast skies wouldn't develop into anything more sinister.

It was time to wait.

* * *

The quiet conversations swirling in the background seemed to contrast the sharp relief of her own inner monologue, however rather than feeling reassured that they were sitting in public, Minerva set down her cup of tea and tried not to feel rattled by the witch across from her. A disconcerting chill ran down her spine and she adjusted her robes to distract from the uncomfortable feeling.

Eleftheria seemed to take her silence in stride and simply sat back as her light eyes gazed out the window toward the snow-covered lane. The late afternoon light was beginning to fade and there were notably fewer people wandering through Diagon Alley than was typical for a Sunday. The weather was rather biting.

Minerva sat back slightly and scanned the small café with a carefully casual gaze. As expected, everything remained to order. Most of the faces she saw were familiar, and while her entrance had prompted the usual barrage of greetings, inquiries, and quiet whispers, she had been satisfied when a few pointed words to the owner had left her to her business without further interruption.

It was not a common occurrence for the Headmistress of Hogwarts to conduct her informal meetings in public, and undoubtedly there would be some offhanded mention of it in _The Prophet,_ however bringing the Greek witch back to Hogwarts - while it would have proven considerably more practical on her end - would have also presented a gesture Minerva was not quite willing to make.

At least not until Eleftheria revealed her motives.

While she knew that her own personal feelings regarding the Architect were still saturated by the circumstances regarding Diamantina's apprenticeship from decades previous, Minerva could honestly say that she didn't dislike the Kefalas matriarch.

The woman was aggravatingly unorthodox and enjoyed far too much inane conversation for her taste, but Minerva also recalled several a pleasant dinner party and a number of well-written articles scattered through various periodicals that belied just how astute and experienced the witch was.

Indeed, Diamantina possessed many of the same talents as her aunt, though it remained clear to all involved that Minerva was more suited to the younger woman's gift for subtlety.

 _Eleftheria is simply so… loud._

"What is it you are truly telling me, Eleftheria?" Minerva murmured quietly, rubbing the lip of her teacup with an absent thumb. Their conversation had lapsed for long enough.

The elder witch had just relayed several of her suspicions regarding Theodotus Ambrozaitys' untimely death, and while Minerva had been surprised and grateful for the shared knowledge, she hadn't necessarily been shocked by the information itself. The whisperings she had overheard at the emergency conference of the ICW were still hanging in the backdrop of her thoughts, and her surface investigation had revealed more than a few inconsistencies.

"From your palpable lack of surprise, I gather that not all of this was new to you, Minerva," Eleftheria replied, pulling her own cup of coffee closer and tilting her chin. It was a statement, not a question, and Minerva responded with a demure dip of her chin.

The elder witch appeared to sigh softly and her jaw worked for a moment. Immediately, Minerva was curious.

"Theodotus was a good friend of mine," Eleftheria murmured, her shoulders falling in an honest expression of sadness. "I feel his loss greatly and I expect it will also come as no surprise to you that it is my intention to bring his executors to justice."

"Then you intend to begin your journey by investigating his previous research?" Minerva asked, twisting a finger to increase the strength of their shared _Muffliato._ Eleftheria's lips curled.

"I might," she quipped, shifting to recross her legs and drape a long arm over one knee. Light hazel eyes regarded her intently.

"Diamantina has sent you her itinerary?"

"She has."

"Then you know that she is expected to return Tuesday and that in the meantime her apprentice has been left beneath my charge."

Yet again, it was a statement, not a question and Minerva tilted her head… lips pressing together in displeasure as she absorbed the other witch's tightly portioned bits of knowledge. Her patience was beginning to wane and she knew that the intimation about Hermione's involvement was meant to rile her emotions.

 _A low blow, Eleftheria…_

"Tomorrow Hermione and I have an appointment with _another_ friend in Paris," Eleftheria continued, her eyes watching Minerva unwaveringly. "My niece's apprentice has agreed to a temporary partnership whilst her Master is away… and while I have heard little from my contact, I am reasonably assured that our investigation shall incur new knowledge as to the nature of the event at the Sagrada Familia and, ideally… greater insight into the true desires of those who perpetrated the attacks."

Without missing a beat, Minerva sat forward.

"What is it you seek in exchange?" Minerva asked bluntly, refusing to give into her irritation as the other witch's sober expression dissolved into amusement.

"Ah, how delightful your straightforwardness. I had forgotten," Eleftheria chuckled, smoothing a ringed hand over one knee. "Nearly as delightful as Hermione's."

"And despite your newfound affection for my former student, it does not escape me how quickly you are willing to risk to her life," Minerva replied coldly, unable to prevent a tinge of accusation from coloring her words. The other witch had shocked her by revealing her new arrangement with the young woman; it seemed further concerning when it the witch had implied that Diamantina was to remain unaware. She briefly wondered if Hermione had been coerced, but had quickly shoved that suspicion aside.

Eleftheria's eyes immediately narrowed and she shook her head.

"Not so, my darling," she responded softly, her gaze open and beseeching. "You know as well as I that Hermione is safest at my side while Diamantina is away. And from the course of these troubling events, I think we can safely say that whomever is responsible has not yet revealed their hand… likely because it remains a disorganized one. No harm shall come to her during our investigation."

"It is not the immediate visit that concerns me," Minerva snapped, nostrils flaring slightly in irritation. "It is the consequences should you fail to remain inconspicuous. Despite your talents, you are both easily recognizable figures and there is always a trail of breadcrumbs no matter how dutiful you are in your preparations."

"Do you doubt my ability to conceal our presence?"

The other woman seemed genuinely surprised and Minerva suppressed a snort. She should have expected the arrogance. _Gods know that it was often Diamantina's downfall…_

That Slytherin vanity could rival her own lion-hearted egotism… and Eleftheria tended to be more open about her failings than most.

"All shadowed matters eventually come to light," Minerva replied patiently. "I do not know the nature of your appointment tomorrow and as such, must consider the worst of foreseeable circumstances. Hermione is as much my responsibility as she is yours… particularly if she intends to join the Order as you have indicated."

At that Eleftheria shook her head fervently and sat forward.

"No. My contact is one of the Guild. He would sooner give his life and snap his wand than submit to cross-examination under duress. I admit he is frustratingly unorthodox otherwise I would have insisted upon a meeting in Athens or Naxos… and that tells you a great deal, considering that opinion of him is my own… however you can be assured that our plans are carefully warded against prying eyes."

Minerva's lips pursed and the other witch sighed heavily and sat back before waving a delicate hand.

"You have your networks and I have mine, Minerva. I shan't apologize for my methods just as I do not expect you to yours. I am simply informing you of what will shortly transpire. Depending upon our meeting tomorrow, I remain hopeful that Hermione and I shall glean new insight into Theo's prior research which I would only be too happy to have her communicate to you and the Order," blue nails drummed upon the tabletop quietly, "And… depending upon how she prepares herself for the Quorum, I imagine that she may also serve useful to you upon Atlantis should you require her services."

Minerva disliked the possessive and slightly offhanded manner in which the elder witch spoke of her former protegé and she took a long moment to sip from her tea as she buried her feelings.

Eleftheria was simply providing her with the unfettered honesty that she preferred and Minerva knew that the witch held Hermione in high regard or she would never have swept the young woman underneath her cloak. The younger witch would indeed remain safe and the thought made Minerva breathe easier, though something in Eleftheria's delivery continued to annoy her.

 _Hermione is no one's possession..._

"Get to the point, Eleftheria," Minerva demanded succinctly, shoving her saucer aside and steepling her fingers.

A flash of something crossed over the other witch's features. Anger, perhaps, but it was quickly replaced by a familiar expression of bemused and genial indifference. Inwardly, Minerva swallowed a smirk. They were so often like oil and water.

"You and I both know that Diamantina intends to remain in the thick of things as matters continue to unfold."

Minerva glared lightly at the opaque statement.

 _As much as anyone **intends** to subject themselves to matters of worldwide conspiracy..._

Intuitively, she knew that Eleftheria was likely in the process of attempting to wrestle her into some sort of corner by having demanding their meeting. The elder witch would never have volunteered such critical information without wanting something in return, and while that didn't necessarily bother Minerva, she wanted the full picture up front rather than depending upon the limited slices of information that Eleftheria continued to parse out in rations.

"How long do you intend to use Hermione as a pawn in your games?" she asked pointedly, willing her features to remain closed and inscrutable.

The other witch waited a beat, seemingly surprised by her redirection.

"As long as you, I am sure."

Minerva's lips thinned and she bit back an automatically defensive retort. Part of her wanted to reply with the insistence that she did not _use_ people, however she had essentially walked into her own trap. Depending upon perspective, one could argue either point… though it remained most important that Hermione was a _willing_ participant in both of their machinations.

Rationally, she also knew that Diamantina and Eleftheria held their own network of trusted wands much like the Order of the Phoenix, but somehow, having her carefully pruned methods compared to their lack of tangible organization made her bristle in irritation.

Eleftheria sighed.

"Minerva, I apologize for upsetting you… however you have my assurance that Hermione will remain safe. Had I known how important she was to you, I would have reconsidered my approach to our conversation today," Eleftheria said kindly, pressing a blue-nailed hand upon the table between them.

An understanding smile was painted across the other woman's features and Minerva felt her neck flush lightly and she chose to look out the window, embarrassed and annoyed that her feelings regarding the young witch were so readily transparent.

"Too late for apologies, in that regard," the witch continued breezily, turning in her chair slightly so that she could rest a sapphire-clad elbow upon the table's edge. The light hazel gaze softened slightly.

"However, I also suppose you would rather remain informed regarding our… excursions together… just as I imagine Hermione will appreciate having another confidante in that regard as I know keeping her arrangement with me a secret will take an emotional toll."

"And I suppose you would like my assurance that I shall also see that Diamantina remains in the dark regarding this... _arrangement?_ " Minerva asked archly. The thought was troubling on more than one level.

"My niece will undoubtedly discover my… _borrowing_ of her apprentice in short order," Eleftheria smiled, tilting her head in amusement. "However, when that time comes, you can be assured that Dia's wrath will largely fall upon my shoulders. Make of that what you will."

Minerva hummed noncommittally.

They both knew that the other witch did not forgive and forget so easily. And by her own reckoning, she imagined that this matter would cross both the personal and professional from Diamantina's perspective which would catapult the witch into a rather specific sort of fury. Both she, Hermione, and anyone else clued in to Eleftheria's little side trip could anticipate being part of the collateral damage.

 _Assuredly, Diamantina shall be more than generous in her anger…_

And her former apprentice had only recently forgiven her for her misstep the Order summons.

 _You must tread more carefully where Mis-_ _ **Hermione**_ _\- is concerned._

It had not escaped her grasp that she appeared to have a blind spot for the young woman. The simple gaffe nearly two weeks previous had managed to shock her…

While creating the list of former and potential Order members for Ptolemy to contact, her tired and overtaxed mind had simply focused in upon the young witch who had so readily proven herself time and time again during the last War - all considerations of Diamantina and her new life in Naxos aside. Her Head of Elves had apologized profusely for having also neglected the young woman's apprenticeship, but Minerva had waved it off.

The Order's company had been her responsibility and there had simply been no excuses for her lack of consideration. She had simply… _forgotten_ about Hermione's new life while thinking in the context of the Order's needs and that in itself had been more than astonishing.

She had literally been sitting with Diamantina the night previous and yet her mind had managed to conceive of Hermione as a single entity - unattached and essential to the formation of a new Order. The complexities of her apprenticeship had not even registered.

Minerva had scarcely known how to apologize to her former apprentice when Diamantina had made her hurt and anger known.

Sighing softly at the painful thought, Minerva bit the inside of her cheek.

 _It seems you are destined to continue repeating your mistakes..._

She sat back and fingered the clasp on her robes absently, thoughts full of both Hermione and Diamantina as Eleftheria continued ahead, seemingly unaware of her companion's dip in focus.

"- seems that Hermione's capacity for selflessness supersedes my niece's desire to keep her upon the fringes of the coming fight. It seems the young woman is willing to go to great lengths to protect her master…" Eleftheria's bittersweet smile was absently directed toward the snowy lane as Minerva's chest abruptly constricted.

"And while convenient for me, I must admit that the decision to keep Diamantina 'out of the loop,' as it were, did not come from me. Hermione directed our course through omission and I simply chose not to correct it. It seems they have cultivated a deeper connection than even I had anticipated… and I confess that I am selfishly reassured by the fact that my niece is now accompanied by an apprentice as caring and loyal as Hermione."

Minerva grew still as she absorbed the other woman's words. A feeling of ice seemed to settle into her bones and the soft intimation brought forth echoes from her quiet observations at the Kefalas villa. Her mind quickly filtered through the various observations she had made of the two witches over dinner and Minerva's heart pounded, suddenly unnerved to consider that perhaps her former protegés were developing a more fervent connection than simply that of Master and Apprentice.

Hermione's sultry expression flashed through her mind… in the villa's kitchen as she had pressed herself against Diamantina suggestively… followed by the young woman's confession regarding her own interests and orientation… and a smattering of moments and images that belied just how much the young woman had grown.

 _She is an intelligent witch deserving of an equally brilliant partner…_

Minerva's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch and her mood began to spiral.

 _...and Diamantina would be an excellent match._

Why that thought seemed to pierce straight through her sternum seemed entirely beyond her.

Eleftheria's voice cut through her thoughts and Minerva flinched, thankful when it appeared the other witch's focus had been upon the lane outside the window.

"Which brings me to my next offering, Minerva. One that shall conclude with a request."

Eleftheria's clear gaze flashed rather suddenly and Minerva cleared her throat as she lifted her chin, willing her voice to remain level even as she actively had to work to shuttle her additional thoughts to one side.

"And what might that be?"

The other witch regarded her for a long moment.

"I shall contact you once Hermione and I conclude our meeting in Paris tomorrow," Eleftheria began, her voice taking on a neutral business-like quality. "While I hope my contact will have information that may shed new light upon these worldly disturbances in addition to further insight regarding our late colleague's controversial research, I imagine that I will _also_ receive confirmation of reports I picked up in Egypt last month."

Tension seemed to be infusing the slight frame across from her and Minerva waited, brows drawn as she worked to focus in upon what seemed to be the crux of the elder witch's dilemma. The mention of Egypt did not escape her and her thoughts quickly filtered through the ominous information that Hestia had discovered regarding the Library of Alexandria. Filius' expert calculations had only contributed to the disturbing hypotheses, and Minerva had promptly sent out a call for additional investigation.

 _Perhaps Pomona's hunch shall be substantiated after all..._

"While attending the most recent conference on humanistic geomagicology … there were whisperings of unrest in the desert," Eleftheria's voice dropped suddenly and Minerva was surprised to hear a genuine tinge of fear, "At the time I had no context for understanding the signals, however now in retrospect, I fear that there is a great Darkness brewing in the Sahara… an ancient one - whether rising of its own accord or summoned at the behest of this new world threat, I cannot imagine it to be coincidence. And I have reason to believe that Theo's research… however obscurely covered, may hold a connection to the rumors that have begun to drift my way."

The pointed jaw worked for a moment and Minerva watched impassively as blue nails raked through short black curls impatiently. She elected to remain silent.

"You and I both have contacts in that part of the world."

Minerva nodded when the clear gaze flickered toward her expectantly.

"And I imagine we will find a way to contribute our wands when called to aid… and I am almost assured that we shall be called," Eleftheria let her breath exhale in a long hiss as a pained expression crossed her features, "However I am requesting that you use your considerable influence and abilities to keep Diamantina away from it. When the time comes, that is," the hazel gaze grew hard, "I want her _away_ from it, Minerva. As far away as possible."

Minerva's brow furrowed.

It was hardly the request she anticipated… and no small one considering they were discussing Diamantina Kallas. Outmaneuvering her former apprentice would take considerable doing and both of them knew that she had not a single shot in hell at simply ordering the younger witch to steer clear of any potential conflicts.

Besides, of anyone in her circles, Diamantina, would likely hold the most influence and power in that corner of the world… and to squander her as a resource seemed illogical. She blinked slowly and sat back.

"Why?" she found herself asking honestly.

 _After all… she did spend several years with Master Abraham…_

The furrow in her brow deepened. The request made no sense.

The witch across from her sighed, one long nail tracing random designs upon the tabletop absently. Lightly suntanned features seemed pained.

"Diamantina has yet to move past the events of the First War," Eleftheria replied quietly. "I can imagine you believe that she would be an asset to any sort of conflict or exchange in that part of the world, however I assure you that she would not. Unbound, she is still far too quick to resort to reckless behavior that I would sooner attribute to you ridiculous Fire types…. or lions… _Gryffindors_ , what have you."

The witch waved her hand dismissively but the small joke fell flat.

"Do the Abrahams agree with you?" Minerva asked carefully, noting the resigned expression upon the witch's typically jubilant features.

"I do not know Jethro's perspective. But his wife - Zohar… she is of the Guild and she is in agreement with me."

Minerva sat back and absorbed that bit of information, surprised and somewhat gratified that Eleftheria had allowed the question. It was further surprising that the witch had confirmed her suspicions regarding the Abrahams themselves. While Jethro Abraham and his daughter Avital were infrequent honored guests to Transfiguration Society events, it had long been a rumor that Africa's oldest Wizarding family had also borne a member of the Guild.

 _I never would have imagined the wife…_

She had long thought the Abraham matriarch to be a noted Alchemist… which, if the pseudonym from _Ars Alchemica_ was not Zohar Abraham, then a different mystery remained. Minerva blinked. The matter bore further consideration at a later time.

"Thank you," she found herself murmuring out of tradition and Eleftheria waved it away with a wrinkled nose.

"If anyone deserves a bit more insight into the Guild, it is you, Minerva," she replied tiredly, seemingly undisturbed by the casual brushing of their respective disciplines. Leaning back, she crossed her legs and slid an elbow over the back of her chair before pinning Minerva with a sober gaze.

"Allow me to be frank, darling?"

Minerva gestured with one hand indicating the affirmative. She felt off-balance and unsettled.

Eleftheria's request seemed odd and Minerva was still processing the added complication of Hermione's presence. The young witch was like a snag upon her attention. She wanted to retreat and review her thoughts regarding Hermione's involvement but the woman across from her seemed intent upon providing further context.

"The First War did more than simply unravel my family tapestry, Minerva," Eleftheria stated simply, her eyes narrowing slightly as Minerva grew still. "The deaths of my eldest niece and her son and his family were nearly unbearable, much as I imagine the losses sustained to your own family. This is not the critical issue. I worry for Diamantina not because of her ability to withstand further pain, but for her inability to channel it into magical action that does not result in further destruction."

Minerva's sharp inhale was not lost upon the other woman and Eleftheria's eyes grew lidded as she tilted her chin up slightly. The witch wet her lips carefully before turning to gaze out the window, features growing still and calm as if attempting to balance out the harshness of her words.

"My niece continues to wrestle with her inner demons, Minerva… however unlike you or I, her talent and power is easily magnified by simply turning toward the shadows. She finds an inner strength within them that makes the metaphorical Darkness a seductive place for her… and now that it has been explored, it remains an ongoing temptation that she will be forced to confront for the rest of her days."

The hazel gaze grew sad as Eleftheria sat back, clearly absorbing Minerva's stricken expression and the oppressive wave of guilt that seemed to crash through her like a tidal wave.

"I do not pity her, Minerva and neither should you. She made her own choices and she has accepted them, therefore it stands to reason that the rest of us should simply follow suit. However, I hope that you will agree that in order for her to continue living the peaceable life she now desires, it would be best to remove temptation from her path. Do you follow me?"

A deep churning sensation was roiling through her gut and Minerva could do little more than nod as her hands fisted her robes, breath coming in uneven spurts as she wrestled with the confirmation of a terrible truth she had long suspected but never confirmed.

 _Gods, Diamantina… what have I done to you?_

Eleftheria's raised eyebrow lowered and her expression grew hard and pensive as she gazed into her coffee cup.

"So long as I am alive, Minerva… I have made it a point to ease Diamantina's burdens to the best of my ability," she said forcefully. The witch's mouth worked for a moment before her shoulders slumped, deflating just as quickly as her words had grown sharp. "I failed her many years ago when I should have seen her through the tempestuous aftermath following Eva's death… and I have since resolved not to make that same mistake again."

Light hazel eyes flickered in her direction.

"I should hope that her friends might consider offering the same favor."

They were silent for a long moment and Minerva was simultaneously angered and relieved that they were in public lest her reaction have manifested in either a magical or verbal outburst that she would have come to regret. Dimly, she imagined it had been a calculated move upon Eleftheria's part.

"What can you possibly imagine is waiting in the desert?" Minerva croaked, aware of the thready note lacing her voice and the fact that her question had already been answered to the best of the witch's ability.

Rather than reply, Eleftheria simply looked at her… head cocked slightly as if listening to the inner whirling of thoughts and emotions raging within Minerva's mind.

"I do not blame you, Minerva," Eleftheria murmured quietly, her typically sharp gaze at once absent while she gave Minerva the space and distance to recompose herself. "For any of it."

A quiet pain had settled into her chest that had nothing to do with nerve damage or curses and Minerva grew still as her eyes narrowed in consideration of the quiet words. Her first instinct was to snap a sharp reply but something in Eletheria's countenance gave her pause. She had never expected sincerity. _Or deserved it..._

"You were a gift in her life, Minerva, I hope you understand that," the witch continued, her voice distant and thin as if she were speaking the words from very far away. Minerva's lashes fluttered.

"I hope that one day you will learn to forgive yourself."

Eleftheria's features twisted into a wry sort of smile - as if admitting the gentle words aloud physically pained her.

 _Which_ , Minerva considered ruefully, _perhaps it did._

It took another moment for the offering to connect and Minerva opened her mouth to reply but the words died upon her lips as Eleftheria fixed her with a pained expression so raw it seemed to mirror her own inner landscape.

"Help me keep her safe, Minerva."

The melodic Greek accent seemed thicker than usual, immediately drawing Diamantina's musical voice to mind. Her former Apprentice had never managed the RP accent to the same degree of accuracy as her aunt and Minerva's head dipped slightly as she gazed out the windows for a long moment, drawing upon the visual of frosted glass and clean snow to assemble her quiet mask of calm.

"Please?"

* * *

Ron fidgeted slightly, his smile beginning to crack around the edges as he waited for Harry and Hermione to make their way across the restaurant. The unfamiliar Muggle coat that the witch... _Yiayia_ had transfigured for him was making his legs feel remarkably exposed, and despite the heaviness of the fabric, he was already aching to return to the swirling comfort of his Academy robes.

Outside the sunlight had all but gone and although the elder witch had assured them that the owners of the Muggle restaurant were "family friends," Ron couldn't help but feel guilty at how long they had stayed. It just wasn't proper.

He managed an awkward smile as their waitress pressed past him.

"- not sure when that will be. I'm sorry, Harry."

Ron waited as Harry sighed and nodded, his expression turning pensive as he offered Hermione a wry smile.

"I know that she has more growing up to do, Hermione… but I really think that if the two of you can get away from everyone to sit down and talk like old times, she'll manage to come around. 'Specially if you… y'know tell her what you told us earlier?"

Harry lifted one shoulder awkwardly as Hermione sighed and pressed an errant curl behind one ear.

"I don't disagree with you, Harry," she replied softly, "But there is nothing that can truly take us back to 'old times'... you also have to understand that what we had before may no longer be possible."

Harry's face contorted into frustration and he paused, open-mouthed as Ron interrupted by placing hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I think we've probably discussed enough future problems to last us well past the hols," Ron murmured good-naturedly, flashing both friends a crooked smile, "Let's let it all rest until we see each other next, yeah?"

The tension around Hermione's eyes dissolved slightly as Harry sniffed and nodded in agreement. Ron felt a measure of relief. _Hermione's been through enough today._

"Can I assume you've made some plan for us to get out of here?" Ron asked quickly, trying to smooth over the awkward shift in conversation. He was pleased when Harry picked up on it and followed suit.

"Yeah… are there any more taxi rides in our near future? If so, this time I'll have to cast an Anti-Nausea Charm."

Hermione chuckled and shook her head as she moved them closer to the door.

"No… well, yes. I sent Yiayia a message and she should be here shortly," a tanned hand scrubbed over elegant features in a way that felt reassuring. At least his friend wasn't completely lost to her new aristocratic ways. "She'll explain your means of returning home. We assumed that you would head back to Grimmauld Place."

"Are you heading back to Greece tonight?" Ron asked curiously. While privately he hoped that his friend had traveled all the way to London just to see the two of them, he wouldn't have been surprised to learn that their meeting was coinciding with some sort of learning experience. Her Mastery schedule seemed rather intense.

"Yes. Originally we were going to travel to Paris for another appointment, but fortunately Yiayia thought ahead and moved it to tomorrow. As I said, I may have more information to tell you afterward, so keep your coins close."

Ron whistled under his breath.

"Blimey… all that traveling in two days? Your master must be good friends with the international Portkey authority," he sniffed, catching Harry's eye.

Privately, he had already gathered that Hermione's master came from a rather well-established family… however even such country-hopping on a whim seemed rather grandiose. _Perhaps her master's line is even more pure than I thought..._

A strange expression of confusion crossed over his friend's face before Hermione shook her head tiredly. She allowed Harry to help her into her coat.

"What? No, we don't use Portkeys," she murmured, her features shifting into a falsely bright smile as their waitress came back around to wish them an enthusiastic farewell.

Ron opened and closed his mouth even as Harry sent him a questioning look, clearly missing the point that left him rather stunned. He tamped down a swell of frustration at Harry's naïveté.

 _Merlin, I swear he never reads…_

As Hermione started to thank the woman for what seemed the millionth time, Ron snagged her elbow and began steering both of his friends toward the exit, a polite smile firmly planted in place.

"Ron! That was rude! She was just -"

"Whatever… it was a good meal," he muttered, waving over his shoulder as he pressed Hermione through the door, "C'mon, let's move. Now what do you mean you don't use Portkeys? How did you get here today?"

The disgruntled look on Hermione's face smoothed over and she tilted her head, clearly realizing her small slip as she adjusted the tie around her lovely camel-colored coat. Ron's eyes narrowed.

"We Apparate," she replied in clipped tones, one eyebrow lifting in an aloof manner that strangely reminded Ron of the Headmistress. Long hands disappeared into pockets as Hermione brushed past him, her heels clicking on the sidewalk even as Harry's expression finally morphed into one of disbelief.

They had started walking toward a street corner by Hermione's initiative and Ron had the sneaking suspicion that their friend was once again concealing more information.

"Whadd'you mean you Apparate? That's thousands of kilometers, Hermione! You can't tell me-"

"It's complicated," Hermione interrupted, still marching onward without looking at either of them, "I don't do the work, actually… it's really-"

" _There_ you are, darlings! I was worried I'd missed you!"

The three of them turned, Ron's irritation abruptly swelling as their guide from earlier appeared to skip down the sidewalk toward them, one gloved hand waving a strange furry object that reminded him of an oversized puffskein.

"Yiayia," Hermione called by way of greeting, affecting a tight smile as she turned over one shoulder. Ron swallowed and shoved his hands into the pockets of the blasted coat. Yiayia frolicked closer and quickly bestowed airy kisses upon the lot of them while Ron studiously avoided whatever dead animal remained clutched in her hand.

"Oh, d'you like my muff?" Yiayia asked, holding the furry thing forward for him to inspect. Ron backpedaled slightly, blushing scarlet even as he heard Harry snicker.

"Oh… um, s'all right… really…"

Hermione made a small scoffing noise before punching him in the arm in a manner that was familiar except for the sharp pain that followed. _She really_ _ **has**_ _been working out..._

"It's a Muggle thing, Ron… _honestly_ ," his friend hissed, her breath glowing beneath the streetlamps, "They use it for warmth."

"Oh… er, right. Makes sense, I guess."

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and tried to smile even as Harry snickered and Hermione didn't even attempt to conceal a solid eyeroll. Yiayia grinned unapologetically and waggled her eyebrows suggestively before tucking both hands into the _muff_ and shrugging carelessly.

 _ **Why**_ _would they name it that?!_

"Well… it seems your adventure today has left everyone intact and in good spirits. I trust all went well, darling?"

The last bit was addressed specifically to Hermione who nodded shyly and smiled in confirmation.

"All was well," she replied softly.

Warm caramel eyes flickered toward them and a moment later, Ron's ire melted as the witch suddenly pressed herself forward into another three-way hug that left Harry clutching his shoulder awkwardly as Hermione attempted to nestle between them. He heard her sigh softly.

"I promise I'll explain everything in more detail, but please just trust that I'm doing the best that I can?"

The quiet whisper was nearly lost to the fabric of Harry's coat and against his will, Ron felt his earlier irritation soften in response. From everything they had discussed, it was clear that Hermione had enough on her plate and he tried to push his frustration toward the back cauldron and focus on the simple fact that her life sounded complicated enough.

He knew that she could handle herself.

"Of course, 'Mi- _Hermione_ ," Ron husked, keeping his eyes on their friend as they collectively pulled back. She sent him a knowing smile and gave a little incline of her head to indicate she had appreciated the conscious amendment to her nickname.

While he felt a small pang that he was no longer allowed to use the sobriquet from their childhood, Ron made a mental note to try and remember it since it seemed to be an important point to Hermione. Wryly, he imagined it would take a bit of doing. Neither the Academy nor The Burrow put great stress on proper speech in the same way that seemed his friend's new life seemed to emphasize. He couldn't recall her ever sounding so… _posh._

"Yeah, we'll keep an eye out for your message," Harry agreed, stepping back and shoving his hands into coat pockets. His eyes crinkled lightly and he shrugged one shoulder. "It was really good to see you, Hermione."

Hermione's answering smile was blinding and Ron's heart clenched painfully as she reached out to grasp their hands again.

"I'm so glad we did this," she whispered, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Thank you for coming, I… I really appreciate it."

They exchanged another hug and a few more murmurs of reassurance while Ron tried not to feel uncomfortable as the elder witch watched them all with a fond little smile.

Eventually, Yiayia slipped them a new set of Portkeys and explained their schedule and he knew their time was already ticking. Even with the new knowledge that the witch was an Architect who had potentially contributed to past Order efforts, she still made him uneasy.

"Don't be a stranger," Ron finally said, trying to infuse the words with a bit of encouragement as he and Harry stepped back again.

"I won't," Hermione whispered, drawing back as Yiayia placed a gentle hand on his friend's elbow. For some reason, the image made him turn away and Ron clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, letting his focus rake over the quiet suburban lane for a long moment as Harry called out his final goodbyes.

"A pleasure meeting you both," Yiayia crowed cheerfully, waving her muff overhead as she drew their friend backward into the deepening shadows. "I daresay we'll be meeting again soon!"

Harry managed a half-hearted wave before they both turned away, falling into step even as Ron caught his friend's expression fall slightly out of the corner of one eye. Somehow, it felt hard to leave without Hermione. At least he knew that he wasn't alone in his melancholy.

Their footsteps echoing softly on the worn concrete, Ron sighed, fingering the uneven edge of the Portkey in his pocket as he struggled with the wave of emotion that threatened his composure. His mind was full of snippets of their long conversation, Hermione's beautifully chiseled features, and their shared questions about the uncertain future.

Struck by one last moment of unidentifiable longing, Ron turned over his shoulder to catch a final glimpse of their friend before she disappeared into the wintery evening. His sharp intake of breath resulted in a cold lungful of air that only seemed to emphasize the moment.

Hermione was already gone.


	48. Chapter 47

_A/N: I've been away for far too long. Rest assured, this story and several of my others are well-plotted to conclusion. I have a trusty new laptop and hope to be back with more updates. Thank you all for your patience and your encouragement!_  
 _-R_

* * *

 **Sunday, Nov. 28 (continued)**

The villa was quiet when Hermione finally arrived home.

Yiayia had departed at the outer wards, and despite knowing that Stelios and Eleni were only a call away, the large home seemed more empty and lonely than Hermione could ever remember.

The grey day had not dissolved, and though night had already fallen, she found herself missing the reassuring glow of moonlight over the sea as she padded toward the bay windows in the kitchen.

One of the Elves had left a plateful of homemade snacks upon the kitchen counter and Hermione waved away the stasis charm with a quick flick of her wand and quickly palmed a square of halva as she tried not to focus on the weight of her emotions. Her body ached and she rubbed her temples absently, trying to get a fix as to why she felt so completely drained.

"About time you arrived."

Hermione gasped and nearly inhaled a mouthful of cinnamon semolina as she turned and found Eleni standing in the threshold with hands on her hips, one eyebrow lifted in an unconvincing expression of disapproval. Bright eyes held more concern than ire.

"I thought you would be resting," she finally choked, eyes watering as the Elf waved over a glass of water. She drank gratefully.

"Yes, well… forgive me for hovering. Yiayia explained the nature of your meeting today."

Eleni watched her for a long moment, one ear twisting slightly in a manner that belied her worry, even as her small features continued to betray little beyond their typical expression of bored mischievousness. The small tell made Hermione's heart warm.

"How did it go?" the Elf asked after a moment.

"It went well, I guess," Hermione replied, gaze growing distant as she settled upon one of the barstools and pulled her treat a bit closer. Eleni rematerialized on the opposite corner of the center island with a quiet _pop!_ , her large eyes patient as one hand rearranged her skirt absently.

"You guess?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose and took her time with another bite of the dessert as she struggled to arrange her thoughts. There was still so much to unpack from her meeting with Harry and Ron and she had hardly begun to think through all of the tangled thoughts and emotions that continued to swirl through her brain indiscriminately.

Briefly, she found herself wishing for Master Kallas' steadfast presence before pushing the rush of emotion away.

"I said what I needed to say and the boys and I reaffirmed our friendship, but…" Hermione trailed off, jaw working for a moment as she tried to put her feelings into words. She shrugged one shoulder listlessly and swallowed, surprisingly, a wave of tears.

Pressing a hand against her mouth, Hermione heard Eleni shift quietly.

"Oh kopelia… nothing can take you backward in time. And as hard as it is, sometimes the only choice we have is to move forward," her friend said softly.

Hermione took a shuddering breath and made a face.

"That's not what -" she began, wiping her eyes with an impatient finger.

"Isn't it?" The Elf challenged, cutting her off before she could finish.

The words ' _That's not what I wanted'_ had been about to fall from her lips, but Hermione fell silent as she realized that's exactly what she had wanted.

 _You wanted to step back into your friendship as if nothing had changed… when, really… everything has…_

A small hand reached out and pressed itself upon the polished marble between them in a reassuring gesture that Hermione had so recently utilized with her two friends.

"We all want to pick up where we left off, my darling… but you have changed since coming to Naxos and your friends have continued upon their own journeys. That is neither a good thing, nor a bad thing. It's just life. It simply _is._ "

Biting one lip, Hermione busied herself by shoving another bite of halva into her mouth… feeling an uncharacteristic flare of annoyance at her friend's simplistic way of distilling her long circuitous conversation with Harry and Ron and a surge of obstinance, even as she was forced to acknowledge that the Elf's assessment of her situation was sound. Her eyes burned at the corners.

 _Even without knowing the full story, Eleni is right… as usual._

Rather than making another face as she desired, Hermione settled for a deep sigh.

"I just wish…" she trailed off, tears beginning to cloud her vision again as she tucked her chin and willed herself not to cry.

 _That the War had never happened? That you hadn't let your friendship lapse? That Master Kallas were here with you now?_

"Don't hide from your feelings, kopelia…" Eleni murmured, her small hand finally connecting to Hermione's. The gentle touch nearly broke her and her shoulders shuddered under the weight of a stifled sob. The nameless ache was growing in her chest and Hermione suddenly felt more exhausted than she had felt in months.

"You must allow yourself to grieve for what you've lost, Hermione. Lean into it. Embrace it. Let yourself understand the pain of it," Eleni continued, dark lashes obscuring her large eyes for a moment as her gaze fell toward their clasped hands. "Only then will you be able to move forward again."

"But I haven't lost anything," Hermione sniffed feebly, wiping away another tear even as a distant part of her recognized she was being automatically defensive and petulant. Somehow it was easier to hold onto her frustration and anger than to listen to the Elf's quiet words.

And she hadn't lost anything had she? Her parents were safe. Her friends were safe. _Hell, you're safe_ … _and you're ensuring that those you love remain safe as well…_

Eleni's expression was pained as she pulled away, small chin drawing downward.

"Well, then… if you haven't lost anything then you have no need for tears, Hermione," the Elf said softly, smoothing out her skirt again. The pressed white fabric was impeccably crisp as always, and despite the gentle tone of voice, Hermione could hear an edge to her friend's words.

She frowned, mouth halfway open to another retort when Eleni's soft sigh cut through whatever protest had been about to spill out.

"But then… it is always easier to grieve for a loss that is tangible. A death. A missing friend..."

Hermione's shoulders slumped as large green eyes unerringly found hers even she felt a desperate impulse to run for her bedroom. The Elf continued with a relentless sort of quiet and she found that she could not look away.

"However a loss of connection? Of innocence? There's no marker for that. No headstone, no empty room, no tangible source for your grief other than the empty space reserved in your heart."

A strange hiccuping sound reached her ears - small and plaintive, as if it had come from a child. Eleni's face was suddenly marred by bright halos of light, as if someone had painted the room in water and Hermione blinked uncomprehendingly.

"And to the grief we experience for an intangible loss… I have found that sometimes there are no easy answers. Some things cannot be repaired. Only carried along as we continue. And you are stronger than most, Hermione."

Another sound followed the hiccup - a rattling sort of breath and a moment later, Hermione realized that she was crying.

Sobbing, really… her shoulders shaking in great heaves that vibrated through her body and left her clutching the marble countertop in a vice-like grip. Her torso seemed to have collapsed in on itself with the force of her emotion, and her throat was burning.

Images floated through her mind - a background reel that was almost cinematic… replaying moments from her childhood, from Hogwarts… Harry and Ron's faces at different points in her life.

Her parents.

Minerva.

For the first time since the end of the War, Hermione allowed herself to let go.

It was time to grow up.


	49. Chapter 48

**Monday, Nov. 29 (four days before the Quorum)**

Dia leaned against a warm brick wall as she absently scuffed a heel against dusty asphalt and waited. Tired eyes were hidden behind reflective sunglasses and despite the current of anticipation buzzing through her system, she felt a fleeting thrum of contentment at simply blending into the colorful snapshot of daily streetlife.

Across the bustling street, her subject seemed content to shoot the breeze with a street vendor, laughing raucously as he slapped the other man on the shoulder. The two men laughed and spoke loudly, with the arrogant assuredness of those accustomed to power, something that Dia had absorbed with patience, amusement, and a practical sort of acceptance.

The flow of street traffic gave the two men a noticeably wide berth and Dia had noted multiple pairs of eyes skitter away upon catching at least one flash of silver tucked into worn denim.

Muggles could be so predictable.

The Disillusionment took away most of her need for pretending to do anything other than what she was currently doing. But still, Dia took time to consider her treat which she held carefully balanced in two hands, loathe to let any of the butter go to waste as she watched her subject from afar.

The elote was fresh and full of flavor, perfectly roasted with just a hint of lime and salt. Unlike the Mexican version, no mayonnaise was needed. Above, the sun was growing quite warm and Dia ignored the trickle of sweat that slithered down her neck.

A Cooling Charm would have taken little more than a gesture, however Dia was determined to keep her Magical signature as unobtrusive as possible.

 _Besides… there is no one here to assist if you are compromised._

Movement across the way drew her attention and Dia's eyes narrowed, watching as her subject shouted a greeting… one hand raised in casual welcome even as his demeanor abruptly changed. The casual bravado had been replaced by carefully concealed fear. Another glance indicated that the street vendor had already made himself scarce. Someone important was arriving.

Leaning forward, she turned her focus to the right, already reasonably assured of who she would see. A pair of women crossed her field of vision, chatting amicably and rearranging their colorful baskets and shawls as they gossiped and Dia tossed the now-finished husk to one side, leaving the safety of her shadowy perch behind a stack of blankets.

No one noticed when it simply disappeared into thin air.

Cancelling her Disillusionment, Dia strode forward.

It was time for answers.

* * *

"Apprentice?"

The young witch sitting upon the couch flinched, expression falling slightly as she straightened upon the dark leather with a penitent air.

Turning away from the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the steep cobblestoned lane below, her aunt's apprentice deliberately angled herself toward Ana with a guilty twist of her lips.

"I apologize, Ana."

Hermione's voice was appropriately repentant, but that was not what caused Ana to frown in response.

It was the third time in the past hour that the young woman had allowed her attention to slip away toward the bustling port. Ana was almost tempted to transfigure the office windows into a solid wall out of sheer irritation, but a different thought suddenly crossed her mind.

"I suppose my aunt neglected to mention the side-effects of long distance separation," she found herself remarking dryly, shaking her head as she circled around to lean a hip against her desk. Raking her eyes over the tired young witchling before her, she allowed her features to soften.

"It appears you are suffering from the typical lack of focus, fatigue, and immunodeficiency associated with bonded pairs."

The young woman's eyes widened in recognition and she sat up a little straighter. Long lashes blinked dramatically and Ana found her lips twisting at the endearingly naïve display. The British witchling could be rather… cute.

"What? I haven't read any such findings!"

Ana sniffed and barely managed to save herself from an eye-roll. That youthful indignance was almost amusing. But now was not the time for distractions.

"Be thankful your bond is not formal. The effect would be tenfold."

At that, Hermione actually blanched and Ana twirled a hand impatiently to Summon a Brightening brew from her private stores. Pressing off her desktop she took a few steps forward and crossed her arms as she gazed down at her young charge.

"I haven't the time to negotiate our schedule around your malaise, and neither do you. But be cautious of your Potion intake over the next several days, Apprentice," she instructed firmly. "Every good Brewer must do well to remember that our discipline is meant to assist with, and not to supplant the body's natural rhythms."

Hermione's chin dropped a few centimeters.

"Yes, Ana."

Ana rolled her eyes at the meek tone and snapped her fingers to prompt the younger witch into accepting the small phial that had appeared just off her left elbow. Hermione jumped before grasping it with another guilty look. Ana glared in annoyance and paced a small circle around herself.

"I am not your Mistress and I do not need your unquestioning obedience. Your focus and your actions are enough for today. We have other materials we need to cover if you are to progress with your... extracurricular studies," she snapped, changing course and striding for one of the octagonal bookshelves adorning the far wall of her study.

They were already well behind in the materials that Ana had intended for them to cover for the morning. She had hoped that the young woman would breeze through the incidental asides related to Quorum rulings and Gallery conduct, however Hermione's mind seemed to be acting a sieve rather than the steel-trap she had already come to expect. It was frustrating, however Ana was doing her best to remain understanding of the young woman's fragile mood.

It had been easy enough to reconcile the witchling's demand upon her time once the rest of the family had been requisitioned to assist in her studies. While Ana was still reluctant to admit it aloud, Hermione was an excellent student and a pleasure to teach… and at the very least, it had given the family a burst of new material to discuss amongst one another outside of the usual extended family drama and Hellenic council gossip.

While her aunt's past apprentices had always matched the girl's zest for learning, Hermione's ambition was somehow far more compelling than Ana recalled from past interactions with students. Only one witch came to mind who could have matched Hermione's well-rounded interest in all magical matters, though there was something almost noble in this new witchling's attitude that Konstantinos had already declared to be "morally inspiring."

Ana wasn't prepared to give her stamp of approval so quickly, however she was forced to admit that Hermione's most recent request had piqued her interest… as well as her penchant for devilry.

Smoothing a hand over her hair out of habit, Ana folded her arms as she sighed quietly and considered one of her favorite bookshelves.

The geometric blossom of black wood housed more of her nontraditional Wizarding texts, a majority of which were carefully warded for safe-keeping. Perusing the titles carefully, she directed the next question over her shoulder, ready to move on from their brief pause in the day's work.

"You _do_ wish to conceal your thoughts from my aunt, do you not?"

The momentary silence was longer than she expected.

Ana turned to find Hermione regarding her with a slightly stricken expression that took a moment to smooth before the witch nodded once in affirmation. Ana's eyes narrowed before she returned her focus to the bookshelf and began unraveling the protective enchantments with a practiced series of gestures.

"Then _what_ has transpired that has simultaneously removed both your focus and your backbone today?" she asked icily, giving into her temper just a little. "For all your inventive questioning last we spoke, it seems I have met ghosts with greater substance."

At hearing no immediate answer, Ana turned again - a sharper barb ready to fall from her lips when she saw that Hermione seemed to have deflated. The young woman was slumped forward, head in hand and despite her irritation at their slow progress through the morning, Ana felt a flash of intuitive concern.

"Yesterday… Yiayia… she took me home to visit my closest friends…" The halting explanation paused as Hermione finally looked up, offering a feeble half-smile, "Home.. to London."

Ana waited, willing her expression to remain neutral even as the young witch provided an explanation of what she already knew. Yiayia had indicated the trip to London had been emotional for the witchling.

"It had been quite awhile since I'd spoken with either of my friends and there were several topics that arose for which I wasn't quite prepared," Long lashes fluttered for a moment before Hermione shrugged listlessly, "I suppose I am still processing everything."

 _So… not just a simple case of bond-sickness._

The young woman turned away, her gaze growing hazy as her eyes rose to watch the fringe of ivy fluttering down from the scalloped terracotta rooftop just outside the windows. Ana waited, observing the young woman quietly as the pensive expression was briefly replaced by a shadow of pain. The quickly morphing micro-expressions told her that there was significantly more to the story than she had just heard.

Ana's eyes narrowed as she took stock of the exhausted witchling before her.

 _This does not bode well._

Before she could formulate a careful response, Hermione surprised her by continuing.

"As you say, I suppose that Mast-Dia's absence is not helping matters either… I really wish… I mean... I... just miss-" Hermione abruptly closed her mouth and straightened, though the expression of fatigue and what Ana now knew to be melancholy did not lesson as she turned.

"I apologize, Ana. I know your time is valuable."

The witch sent her an apologetic half-smile, but rather than respond immediately, Ana turned back to her bookshelf and plucked another thick tome from its place as she thought hard.

The wave of empathy she felt for her aunt's Apprentice would have to be meditated upon at a later time, however Dia had charged her with the witch's protection in her absence and something told her that Hermione was beginning to buckle beneath the increased demands of her Mastery and new life direction.

Whether it was her theses or the Quorum or the Order of the Phoenix, Ana did not know. Perhaps it was exactly as the witchling said - the brief reminder of home and difficulties renegotiating lateral relationships in the wake of her new life on Naxos.

Perhaps it was all matters combined.

Ana felt another flash of frustration.

There was still so much about the young woman that remained a mystery… whether her aunt was willing to admit it or not. And despite the rocky start to her fledgling relationship with Hermione, Ana felt a wave of protectiveness for the young woman; for the moment, it was also within her interest to follow it.

 _And it seems that the trip to Great Britain has unearthed several matters of importance…_

Ana buried another thrum of irritation directed toward her family.

Yiayia, she could handle.

And when Dia returned, they would have words, but now was not the time.

From the beginning - or at least as soon as Dia had begun singing the young woman's praises, Ana had been the first to suggest that the witch's diligence was unnatural. Admittedly, the notion had been laced with accusation and jealousy prompted by tales of Hermione's prowess and Dia's upsetting decrease in available time, however Ana had long since let that snitch fly. Her aunt's subsequent lesson had been harsh but necessary, and Ana had been willing to concede the point gracefully.

However, almost as soon as she had begun working with Hermione directly, Ana had revisited her initial observation, informed this time by personal experience.

The near-eidetic memory was a skill that the young woman seemed to have carefully honed over the years, but not even that accounted for all of the witch's abilities.

Hermione's single-minded determination and almost-militant ability to focus on a task without the slightest distraction - those were skills that hinted toward experience beneath significant pressure and possibly duress.

Why Dia refused to acknowledge the obvious remained beyond her.

Stroking a long finger over the spine of a book, Ana ignored the object's quiet purr as her eyes passed over titles unseeingly.

Hermione's mood seemed to have changed drastically since her visit to Great Britain the day previous. While the young witch had already been well on her way to exhaustion as a combined effect from her studies and the events of the previous week, Ana had worked with the woman on Saturday and been pleasantly impressed at how much ground they had covered in preparation for the Quorum.

Now, it seemed that the young woman was falling apart at the seams.

Ana frowned as her fingertips snagged upon a familiar plum-colored tome. The faded gold lettering flashed as she pulled it from its resting place with an irritable yank.

 _Of course_ Yiayia would have rushed the girl into matters with far greater roots than she could have foreseen. The elder witch's assessment of the jaunt to Great Britain had been positive and Ana felt a flash of irritation as she quietly surmised that once again, her great aunt's Kefalas confidence had blinded her from seeing what was directly in front of her.

Hermione was struggling through something personal… whether a present challenge or a past one, Ana couldn't say, though the fact that the young woman's shift in demeanor had been precipitated by a visit with her close friends did not seem to be a good sign.

"Ana, did you mention immunodeficiency?"

The young woman's non-sequitur drew her from her thoughts and Ana strode back toward the leather couch with more purpose than she felt, two books clutched in hand as she frowned at the young woman currently preoccupying her thoughts. Hermione seemed pale despite her deep tan, and a closer glance revealed that the Brightening potions did not seem to have the desired effect.

The witch was looking up at her with a curious expression, oblivious to her inner turmoil.

"Earlier… when you were talking about bonded pairs. You mentioned that immunodeficiency could be a symptom of long-distance separation?"

Ana sat, puzzled by the shift in topic.

"There has not been a great deal of research into the nature of bonds between Magical persons, however it has long been common knowledge that separation can lower an individual's ability to stave off illness and fight infection," she replied evenly, unsure of which direction the witch's questions were headed.

"Why?"

"Why do you suppose, Apprentice?"

Hermione bit her lip and tilted her head as Ana noted the dark circles beneath amber eyes.

 _This does not bode well at all..._

"Well… I suppose I am not sure. From what Master Kallas explained, our bond is not formal and there has been no meshing of Magical energies. I suppose I think of our bond as a radio signal… and now we are both out of range," Hermione answered, angling her knees toward Ana unconsciously. "But that wouldn't explain why I would be experiencing any physical symptoms."

"An apt metaphor for the most part," Ana agreed, crossing her ankles quietly as she sighed. Given the young woman's present situation, she decided to allow the tangent.

"Unfortunately, it is more complicated than that and you must not confuse the lack of integrated magic with a complete lack of integrated energy at all."

Wetting her lips demurely, Ana's eyes narrowed as she refocused.

"To use your metaphor… you must also consider that a radio needs a power source in order to operate. Your body and your magic expend energy to maintain your bond with my aunt. When you are in close proximity with one another, the output is minimal - think of it as being in the same room with her and having a constant awareness of her presence. Your signal is strong, yes?"

Hermione nodded, her tired gaze a bit more focused with the prospect of interesting information.

"However for lack of a better image, imagine that she has now left the room and you are now in the process of looking around and actively searching for her presence. That is what your magic is doing right now… it is expending its own energy as it searches for her magical signature in order to reassert and reaffirm your bond, which in turn affects your body, your ability to focus, and your general level of energy."

Hermione appeared to be thinking hard, but she nodded again.

"And a formally bonded pair? How would a long-distance separation affect their magic?"

Ana ignored the niggle of suspicion at the witch's interest.

"Such knowledge remains in the hands of those who have experienced it firsthand," she lifted a brow and allowed her voice to drop into a lower register, "A formal bond is quite intimate, Apprentice. Our metaphor of sharing a room would no longer be sufficient to describe such an experience… instead, one would be privy to the inner landscape of another individual including their thoughts, emotions, dreams, desires… it is far more information than can be quantified in words, however that being said… try imagining yourself in such a position and then having all of that deeply intimate awareness stripped away."

Ana paused and looked deep into troubled amber eyes.

"It would be a _loss_ , Hermione, and an extremely unpleasant one at that."

She let the witch digest her words for a moment as she leaned forward and set her two literary choices on the low table before them.

"Be thankful you are not in such a relationship," Ana concluded, settling back and gesturing toward the two volumes expectantly.

Hermione glanced at the books before tucking her chin and folding her hands in her lap. The witch's bottom lip was suddenly being worried between bright white teeth.

"Forgive my impertinence, but… have you ever been formally bonded, Ana?"

The question should not have taken her by surprise, and yet it somehow did.

Eyes flying wide, Ana flinched and suppressed an involuntary shudder.

"Certainly not," she snapped, sitting forward and pressing into the other woman's space as anxiety gave way to embarrassment and anger. "And while I forgive your impertinence on account of my agreement with your Master, do not mistake my honesty as an excuse for your ignorance. In any other situation, such a question would be taken as an insult - one worthy of initiating a duel. _Have I made myself clear?_ "

Hermione's eyes were wide and fearful as she nodded, one hand pressing against the dark leather for reassurance as she clearly worked to avoid the instinctual impulse to shrink back.

"Yes, Ana. I-I'm sorry," caramel eyes were suddenly filling with tears, "I… didn't realize it… I mean, I _knew_ it was a personal question, but… I just… I didn't know that it would come across as so invasive."

Annoyed with the witch and still off-balance from the question, Ana bit her the inside of her cheek hard before replying, busying herself with smoothing out the sapphire silk of her robes even as she felt the young woman next to her fairly vibrate with insecurity. She took a deep breath, knowing that the force of her emotions could be rather intimidating.

Irritation quickly gave way to guilt as Ana acknowledged the cultural gap that the young woman was still striving to overcome... which then re-blossomed into annoyance at her aunt for not having clarified something so _elemental_ to the world of Masteries.

 _Gods above, Dia! What have you been teaching this witchling?_

Sighing, Ana levitated the two books from the table and gently sent them toward Hermione as a peace offering. A tentative hand reached out to accept them and Ana pinned it beneath her own. She felt the young woman flinch.

"Apprentice. Be thankful for your curiosity as it opens many doors… but be cautious as you go. Our Kefalas fire seems to feed your natural ambition, however you are also young and newly versed to some of the older Wizarding ways. Do not depend upon our incendiary methods before you have built and earned your own path in this world… and do not think my aunt's reputation will always be there to protect you."

For a moment, Ana worried that her note of caution may have tilted the scales too far in the wrong direction, but the shadow quickly disappeared from the young woman's tired features and Hermione nodded solemnly.

"I understand."

The witchling took a deeper breath and then Ana watched carefully as something akin to her own well-practiced mask of professionalism slammed down into place. Hermione's lashes fluttered and she gestured with a long hand as if clearing the space between them.

"Let us continue, Ana. I shan't waste any more of your time."

Noting the careful return to etiquette, Ana nodded demurely as per requirement and flicked a wrist to open the first book to the chapter she desired. Even as she was pleased that Hermione seemed to have understood and accepted their return to more pertinent matters, Ana felt a stab of worry that went far deeper than the young woman's minor… _well, not minor_ … gaffe.

Hermione was troubled.

And again, Ana found herself wondering just what the young woman had endured and just how soon the truth would work its way to the surface.


	50. Chapter 49

Ron blinked as he stepped into a room of mostly familiar faces who nodded and murmured their greetings with a patient sort of energy that suggested they had already been waiting for some time.

He had only ever visited Head's Tower on a handful of occasions and a cursory sweep of the space indicated that its new inhabitant favored organization, practicality, and comfort. In that order.

Unlike the messy, eccentric sprawl of books and baubles he recalled from Dumbledore's tenure, the Head's office at Hogwarts appeared to have been rearranged with meticulous care. There was an elegance and brightness to the entire space that he didn't recall from memory, and as his gaze absorbed the single standing figure, he found himself squaring his shoulders and rising just a little bit taller.

Minerva McGonagall waited expectantly at the center of the room, hands momentarily clasped until she gestured for them to sit and three plush velvet-backed chairs sprang into existence with a fluid ease that caught him off guard. Ron ducked his head at the casual use of wandless magic, cheeks warming slightly as he was reminded just how much he had to learn about _who_ now lead their order.

Avoiding eye contact with the other faces, he followed along dutifully as Gawain led them into the circle with a general salute to the group, waving Harry and Ron to sit at either side. The conversation momentarily paused, Ron mimicked his mentor as he sat, settling on the edge of his seat with elbows on his knees in an informal stance that suggested attentiveness and an open willingness to listen.

" _Always cover your uncertainty with projected ease and confidence, Ron. An Auror can never allow his adversary to feel his nerves…"_

Another glance around indicated that several hands held empty or half-finished tea-cups, either indicating that the three of them had arrived late or were stepping into a meeting that was already well underway.

 _What are we walking into?_

"Thank you for coming, Gawain," the Headmistress said quietly, drifting closer to gaze down at their mentor with a meaningful gaze. An elegant hand touched the wizard's shoulder and Ron was surprised when their typically jovial professor merely grunted in soft assent before gesturing toward the witch in an apparent invitation to continue what was already started.

Ron strove to keep his face neutral as an intense emerald gaze suddenly caught his own with measured interest, flashing behind silver spectacles before flickering toward Harry, and finally away as the witch turned and addressed the group.

"Very well, it seems we are all met."

The familiar Scottish brogue seemed richer than he recalled and Ron watched as the Headmistress pivoted carefully and sat in a tall mahogany chair that seemed both entirely practical and entirely throne-like.

"You were saying, Balthazar?"

An unfamiliar wizard clad in Ministry robes lifted bushy eyebrows in response. He cleared his throat.

"Forgive me, Headmistress… where was I? Er… yes well, the Greek foreign minister seemed to think that my objections to the timeline were overstated. Despite presenting Tillandsia's thorough assessment which clearly outlined the astronomical costs of re-runing and the number of adaptations throughout Muggle infrastructure that would need to be implemented for their proposal to succeed, we were forced to conclude our last meeting without making any headway. I'm afraid I'm still waiting to hear from Thaddeus Umpleby as to whether or not my evaluation has been taken into consideration moving forward."

Ron noted the way the wizard leaned toward the Headmistress with a deferential sort of attentiveness. Anxious hands twisted a teacup quietly and Ron watched as the Headmistress frowned and adjusted her feet demurely.

"And you feel this attitude comes from the Seat of Hestia herself?"

Ron watched as the wizard named Balthazar blinked in confusion.

"I understood it was the final proposal from the Greek Thamaturge, yes. However far be it from me to understand the intricacies of international tradecraft," he replied, somewhat bitterly. "No matter the paperwork I file and the protests I log, the Office of Operations continues to make foreign trade agreements heedless of whether or not their proposals violate ICW trading laws _or_ whether or not they even have the budgetary support! And then _I_ have to deal with the fallout!"

The wizard huffed and received a smattering of winces and understanding smiles.

"I appreciate the challenges that your position presents," the Headmistress replied smoothly, inclining her head. "Thank you for your perspective and for taking time to meet with us today."

Her response seemed to appease the wizard and Ron watched as the man stood in response, clearly responding to the implied dismissal.

"'Course, Headmistress," The wizard's jowls bobbed as he gave the witch an odd sort of bow, eyes flickering to several other seats in their group. "I am happy to serve."

There were a few goodbyes and murmurs as the wizard took his leave, and Ron buried the impulse to look toward Harry in reassurance.

Gawain had "borrowed" them from the Academy library during their afternoon study hour and, unlike other excursions into the field, this one had come with zero advance explanation. It wasn't until they had arrived to Hogwarts that Ron had realized they were quietly being brought into the new Order's fold.

While that in itself bore a good amount of excitement, Ron had attempted to rein in his expectations; both he and Harry were struggling to make sense of the new Order's arrangement and it seemed clear that their learning curve was going to be nothing if not steep and humbling.

Ron started as a cup of tea popped into existence off his left elbow. He snatched it out of the air hurriedly without thinking, rattling the saucer even as Gawain shot him a look.

Slurping only somewhat guiltily, Ron tried to refocus and draw upon all of the tools he had been drilling in his one-on-one shadowing sessions with Wick and Gawain. Taking a moment to settle back with a casual ease that was well-practiced, he finally allowed himself the opportunity to look around the small group in earnest.

Everyone's focus was attending to Filius Flitwick who was explaining something newsworthy that he didn't quite grasp. Ignoring the conversation for the moment, Ron took stock of the different faces.

 _Who are our players?_

The Headmistress sat between Flitwick and Pomona Sprout, the latter whispering quietly to Hestia Jones as the younger witch frowned lightly in concentration. While Ron didn't know Hestia very well, the former Auror had been a frequent visitor to Grimmauld Place during the height of the War. He knew that the witch had a mouth like a sailor and was possessed of an easy bell-like laugh that was often infectious, and he had also understood from Ginny that Hestia had become a notoriously well-liked professor at Hogwarts since joining the faculty.

To Flitwick's left sat another wizard that Ron didn't recognize, though the Ministry sigil at the collar indicated that the man belonged to the Directorate of Sorcery, which made sense given the present discussion of foreign trade. The Directorate had always maintained a measured interest in Academy graduates and Ron knew that they were already looking to recruit at least two members of his own class. Managing the Ministry's array of spell collections and magical resources and technologies was not a profession that he fancied, however the Directorate was a powerful force within the Ministry's ranks and responsible for keeping tabs upon on foreign investments.

The few remaining seats were occupied by two of his Academy professors - Wickleffe Temple and Benedict Jones who sat across from his niece, Hestia, wearing a familiar scowl that Ron recognized from lectures. Narcissa Malfoy sat quietly, appearing only slightly less unapproachable than usual for her choice of dark garnet robes which seemed rather curious.

And finally, Ron's gaze took in the tired visage his own father, who still appeared worn and sleep-deprived in the wake of Sturgis Podmore's death… and he found himself rerouting the familiar coil of judgment and shame as his eyes noted the frayed hem of his father's work robes.

He took a thoughtful sip of tea.

 _Interesting cohort…_

Unfortunately, Ron still had no idea what they were there to discuss, and Gawain's final no-nonsense order still rankled as it echoed through his thoughts.

" _You are to be seen, but not heard. Watch and listen, but keep your thoughts and words to yourselves. Neither of you are to have input in the meeting we are about to attend."_

The final instructions had been issued in a tone that brokered no protest and Ron had attempted to swallow them gracefully. Now, though… with talk of foreign trade and international allies, he buried his frustration and tried to channel it into something productive.

 _Gawain would never have given the order if we weren't to take some sort of lesson…_

There, that seemed reasonable.

 _And anyway, we knew that joining the Order as adults would mean having to learn the ropes…_

Both he and Harry had already argued over that point for a long time.

Only now, with McGonagall's new charge to the Order, were they beginning to understand the magnitude of the legacy that they were inheriting. There were still so many names and faces behind the organization that had once seemed as small as the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place, and they were still learning about the Order's past alliances and history that now seemed to stretch well beyond the boundaries of Great Britain.

Even Gawain and Wickleffe, who existed as two of their closest mentors at the Auror Academy had been tight-lipped about their past Order dealings and both he and Harry had been shocked to learn that they had even been involved at all.

The more they _did_ learn, the more it seemed clear that Dumbledore had run the secret organization with an iron fist, and while their new leader seemed to value transparency in a way that was refreshing, it was also humbling and destabilizing to admit that they didn't know nearly as much about the Order of the Phoenix as they had previously thought.

Ron chanced a look toward the Headmistress who was attending to the conversation quietly.

Emerald eyes were flickering between individuals carefully and Ron was curious to note how fully the witch seemed to be listening to everyone's words. While he recalled the Headmistress' uncanny ability to spot mischief from school, he felt a jolt at realizing he couldn't remember a single instance of speaking with the witch one-on-one.

Something about witnessing her in a smaller group also seemed different.

His cursory observation seemed to indicate that the witch was entirely focused on the conversation at hand, her posture and features relaxed as she absorbed varied opinions with what appeared to be neutral curiosity…

 _An undervalued ability_ , Ron thought absently. So many leaders strove to multitask at the risk of making judgments and hasty actions without careful consideration. Even Gawain, who currently served as Head of the Auror Academy, couldn't profess to have all his cauldrons in a row. The man was constantly striding through the Academy halls with no less than five or six paper airplanes whizzing along behind him.

It was a running Academy joke that one only needed to simply summon the paper airplanes and everyone would instantly earn a free pass from lecture. (To which Gawain would always offer a good-natured duel in response.)

Smiling softly at the inner joke, Ron abruptly felt himself stiffen as the Headmistress sent him a careful look, one sculpted eyebrow arching in apparent question… and he realized that his covert observations hadn't been quite as secret as he thought.

 _Blimey…!_

Cheeks flushing, Ron found himself gulping his tea rather inelegantly as he tried to refocus on the actual conversation at hand.

"- the MACUSA's iron fist upon the foreign press."

"Hardly shocking."

Filius Flitwick was in the midst of waving a small hand, his features drawn into a mask of derision. It appeared to be a semi-heated debate between his former Charms professor, the unfamiliar wizard from the Ministry Directorate, and his Academy professors who were still grumbling across him quietly.

"The United States' foreign policy is not about to make headway anytime soon, and despite Quahog sitting in the wings providing the _singular_ voice of reason, current events have precipitated a wave of fear that is nearly as bad as the events of the twenties… there's no reason for us to expend energy there when there's little evidence to suggest reciprocal support!"

"Very true, very true," Benedict Jones began, one wizened hand rising to rub at his brow thoughtfully. "There are rumors that the MACUSA is considering martial law until the protests die down, and _I_ for one would be hard pressed to give an _aye_ when they did _little_ -"

The Headmistress held up a hand and Ron felt a pleasant shiver of surprise as his usually verbose Professor of Comparative Strategy fell silent obediently, frowning darkly beneath bushy eyebrows.

"While the state of affairs with the MACUSA does bear dialogue in the upcoming months, let us attend to matters concerning our own Ministry. Concerning the evidence of today, what say you all?"

There were a few uncomfortable shifts as everyone mulled over the Headmistress' question. Ron waited, feeling his mind reel with the information he had absorbed but was still unable to interpret. A number of questions sprang to mind, and he allowed them to die before reaching his lips.

Gawain's final words of instruction rang through his thoughts again.

"Well, it seems Egypt has made our decision for us..."

Burying the instinctual rush of affection, Ron turned to his left as his other mentor, Wickleffe Temple, opened his palms thoughtfully. Younger, and a bit more personable than Gawain, Wick constantly reminded Ron of his elder brother, Charlie.

"I mean, the investment opportunity seems clear, doesn't it?" The man's eyebrows rose in good-natured disbelief. "Are we _really_ going to turn down fifty Time-Turners? Surely, the Directorate of Sorcery can find a way to code our offer to make it nearly impossible for the Egyptians to employ reverse-engineering on our spellwork?"

There were a number of assenting murmurs including an affirmative from the Ministry wizard as Ron fought to conceal his shock.

 _Time Turners! What?_

"Yes, but _think_ of the investments we could make if we signed an agreement with Greece," his father interjected quietly. "The Greek Hegemon offers a long-term investment that would increase our trade options throughout Eastern Europe, _and_ , it's clear that Trans-Apparative gateways are the new wave of global travel."

"They're certainly efficient in monitoring commerce through Aetherion," Flitwick remarked thoughtfully, glancing toward the Headmistress expectantly.

Several sets of eyes turned toward the witch, whose features remained carefully neutral. A sculpted brow lifted after a long moment and Ron watched graceful fingers steeple themselves elegantly.

"What is the pulse of the inner company?" the Headmistress asked quietly.

Surprised at the insider question regarding the Ministry, Ron found his gaze pinballing between his father and a few other Ministry faces in their circle.

His father's lips twisted.

"Can't you just ask Kingsley?"

The question came from Pomona Sprout and Ron buried an irritated twist of his own lips by taking a deliberate sip of tea.

While he didn't understand the full context of the conversation, he understood enough to glean that they were discussing Order business of a larger scale than he had ever before witnessed. Even he recognized that the witch's query was infantile at best.

 _Seriously? Doesn't Sprout understand how this works?_

To her credit, the Headmistress merely responded with a thoughtful tilt of her head.

"I wish to ascertain the pulse of our potential foreign investments before bothering the Minister with any unnecessary additions to his agenda."

The Ministry wizard cleared his throat.

"My intuition points to a trade agreement Greece. As Arthur already indicated, Trans-Apparative Gateways are finding momentum across both Eastern Europe and Asia," he said. "Even the MACUSA has indicated their interest in a gateway linking Tokyo to Los Angeles."

"And what of Tillandsia? Does she have a platform for her assessments beyond the initial survey handled last summer?"

Emerald eyes narrowed.

"Ah. Tillandsia… she's, er… disappeared," the wizard replied, flushing slightly before clearing his throat. Ron caught Gawain covering a smile beneath a careful hand.

 _Interesting._

"Rumor has it she's operating on the authority of The Guild," Gawain offered, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease that suggested to Ron that his mentor was likely offering a partial-truth. He felt his own ears perk up at that and he was hard-pressed not to exchange a look with Harry, whom he also felt shift forward with interest.

The Architecture Guild was an enigma that they had both agreed deserved further consideration after hearing Hermione's unique insight, however as their friend had already indicated - cursory investigations had been met with a whole lot of _nothing.  
_  
"They released a statement to the foreign press after the attacks, however they've offered little beyond the first denouncement. Internal whispers in the Aurory think that too much pressure from the ICW has sent a number of them underground… and well…" Gawain rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he trailed off and the Headmistress frowned.

"I see."

 _I don't._

By the look on the Ministry's wizard's face it was clear he didn't either, but it didn't seem like the Headmistress or his mentor were about to elaborate. They exchanged a long shared look and Ron had to tamp down a wave of resentment at being left out.

 _Remember your questions and hold them until after._

The witch waved a graceful hand.

"Thank you for your time, Scottie," McGonagall replied, her features assembling into a warm yet distant smile that seemed unfamiliar upon features Ron had thought he knew rather well. "If you have further insight, please send word through the usual system."

"Of course, Headmistress," the wizard rose only somewhat awkwardly, looking slightly surprised at the quick dismissal. He fluffed his robes and looked around the group with a slightly flustered air.

"Professors. Aurors," the wizard turned and gave a small bow toward Narcissa Black who responded with a curt nod. "Mistress Black."

"Mister Scorcho."

Rather than watch the wizard leave, Ron found his attention upon the Headmistress who suddenly seemed far more interesting an individual than his years at Hogwarts had prepared him for. The way she wielded power seemed slightly vague in his eyes, however from the course of the meeting it seemed clear that Headmistress McGonagall demanded respect in a manner that suggested it had been hard-earned.

The witch was also quite hard to read, he was realizing… and something about the way she held herself seemed familiar and unnerving, though Ron couldn't quite put a finger…

The office door snicked shut and emerald eyes narrowed and flashed.

"Options."

The Scottish tones were clipped and Ron felt himself sit up straighter in response as the Headmistress' demand fell upon the group.

"We need to contact Tillandsia," Gawain put forth immediately.

"I'll leave that to you," the witch replied smoothly, looking over her spectacles for a long moment. Again, Ron had the distinct feeling that the two of them were privy to another level of conversation that wasn't being stated aloud.

Gawain made a noise through his teeth and then nodded once.

Ron couldn't quite understand the Headmistress' body language nor Gawain's, however they seemed to be speaking around some sort of shared understanding about the Architect that both Ministry wizards had already alluded to. Whomever this Tillandsia was, Ron thought that she must have been a rather controversial witch.

Again, Ron stifled the urge to look toward Harry.

"I have one or two contacts left in the company. I will reach out to see of DoM is peddling anything under the table in regards to either trade proposal."

Ron couldn't help the expression of surprise as Pomona Sprout's pronouncement was met with appreciative nods all around.

 _Department of Mysteries? Sprout?!_

"Any insight into the nature of the Greek proposal seems to be of greatest priority," the Headmistress replied, conjuring a parchment and scroll with a subtle twist of one hand. "I daresay thirty Time-Turners is the least of our worries."

"You believe there's more to that offer that meets the eye?" asked Wickleffe.

The Headmistress tilted her head thoughtfully and passed the feather of her quill across one cheek.

"It is my intuition that the Greeks would never give away such a substantial sum of magical technology without placing further stipulations regarding their usage in place. As a nation paving the majority advancements in the realm of Time Magic for the rest of us, they have reason to keep their monopoly as it is."

"I was under the impression that the trade would be more than well-matched in the Trans-Apparative investments?" Hestia Jones asked in half-question, brown eyes wide in bewilderment. "The Hegemon has been pressuring us to add Athens to the Western European Portkey and Floo Authority for decades. Thirty time-turners in exchange for an open line of transportation and commerce to their capital seems a fair match, does it not?"

Flitwick frowned and shook his head.

"What both Scottie and Balthazar failed to mention is that without Tillandsia in the picture providing the voice of the Guild, the Ministry holds little ability to act upon their proposals," he offered, glancing toward the Headmistress.

"Is the Guild truly that influential?" Hestia asked incredulously, looking around the group in surprise. Ron looked around and noted a number of uncomfortable shifts within the Hogwarts professors, however it was Narcissa Malfoy who answered smoothly.

"Though their numbers are few, the Guild exercises its own authority as much as any recognized Society," she replied softly. "The rules of the Guild circumvent most, if not all, international policy - particularly when their expertise is required for projects of this magnitude. Only the Guild could provide the necessary support to conceal a project of this scale from Muggle view."

 _Why have I never heard about the Guild's significance before?_

"Well fuck…" Hestia breathed, blinking large brown eyes in consternation as Professor Sprout tsked under her breath.

"Then you see the challenges our Ministry faces," the Headmistress murmured softly. "If this is the one offer they're considering in earnest, we must consider the weight of the internal and external ramifications of such a partnership and whom else may be interested in these proceedings."

Ron's mind was reeling and he desperately wanted to ask several questions.

"Quite right," chimed in Professor Jones with his familiar bluster. "The Greeks have been pushing their interests upon us for the last five years. Hitting us while we're down, wouldn't you say? With their capitalist Thamaturge holding the reins, how are we to create a proper counter offer within our capabilities, let alone interests?"

The Headmistress frowned and peered over her spectacles and Ron felt a peculiar swooping sensation in his stomach. It was a _Professor McGonagall_ look… and for the first time since they had arrived to the meeting, Ron intuitively understood what was about to come next.

"You misunderstand me," came the direct reply a moment later. "My concern is for the visibility of our trade proposals and those who would seek to undermine them."

Professor Jones sat forward and glared.

"Then you find no fault in that witch's underhanded methods? I s'pose you don't recall how Greece _neglected_ to answer our call for aid two years ago?" Jones huffed derisively, "You academics are so quick to jump into the Greek pocket… the birthplace of civilization and all that. If your Societal history didn't trace back to Athens, would you be such a staunch supporter of their proposal now?"

A sculpted eyebrow rose in response and Ron waited, watching as the Headmistress grew very still.

"Do not mistake my words for self-serving obsequiousness, Benedict," she replied icily. "And do not forget that it was _Greece_ who came to our aid _first_ during Voldemort's first incursion. Where was Germany? France? Belgium? Spain? How many months did it take for our _allies_ to respond to our call?"

Green eyes flashed and Ron swallowed a gulp.

"Greece rendered aid, supplies, potions, and wands… and while _you_ may have forgotten that said allegiance cost them over thirty of those wands and the lives of twelve school children at the Battle of Corfu, I can assure you the Greeks have not. I would implore you to reconsider your impressions of history, and I encourage you to _tread lightly_ when speaking of matters beyond your allegiance. Speak of this again and we shall have a true disagreement upon our hands."

Professor Jones merely glowered as McGonagall pinned him with a look that could have withered the brightest of Flutterby blossoms. Ron willed himself not to shrink back out of habit, though hearing the tinge of Societal threat was almost more uncomfortable than the rest of the disagreement.

 _Good Godric, she's really not playing games!_

"Now..."

A long hand smoothed out silken robes as the witch took a steadying moment before speaking. The rest of the group remained politely interested in their tea, though Ron immediately noticed several wands lying across laps that had not been present before.

 _Helga's humping hippogriffs…_

He really wished Hermione were present.

McGonagall lifted her chin and it was as if someone had cast _Nox_ upon her expression, which softened immediately and grew contemplative.

"Our shared history with Greece is not the topic of conversation at hand, and I invite us to return to the root of our challenge."

The Headmistress cast a careful eye over her parchment and Ron tamped down his incredulity as his cantankerous Academy professor slumped back, clearly cowed enough to listen to the rest of McGonagall's argument, though his dark expression did not clear.

"The challenges of this particular trade lie within the internal workings of the Greek Hegemon, or Hellenic Council as it's referred to in country," the Headmistress began, lifting her gaze to meet Professor Jones'. "I will agree with you, Benedict, in saying that Thamaturge Megalos' significant economic investments abroad do not always endear her to her countrymen and do present a certain challenge in ascertaining her true motives… however her political platforms are of little interest to me at the moment. In addition to being the executive voice of the Greek Hegemon, Thamathurge Megalos also holds the Seat of Hestia… one of the twelve elected officials whose office accounts for all decisions pertaining to foreign trade and relations."

The Headmistress removed her glasses as Ron made several more mental notes to follow up with Hermione.

 _Hestia? Thamathurge? Hegemon?_

The intricacies of Greek government were lost upon him, though from a few other faces in their circle, it seemed a few others weren't as well versed in foreign politics either.

"All matters of trade must pass through the Seat of Hestia's offices and be approved by a minimum of two other members of the Hegemon before moving to vote by the Greek legislative assembly - the Sophistrium. Thamaturge Megalos is not the executor of this proposal and it would be within our interests to discover where this trade agreement originated, which council members supported it, and who stands to benefit from such an arrangement before engaging in further maneuvers."

Professor Jones' eyebrows rose and he snorted.

"Not to mention the Guild's role within this proposal."

The Headmistress sniffed.

"Indeed."

There were a smattering of murmurs before McGonagall gestured to her left.

"This is where we shall depend upon Pomona's expertise," the Headmistress nodded toward Sprout who gave a thin smile of acknowledgment in response.

"We must first ascertain the breakdown of the Greek Hegemon regarding this particular proposal. It strikes me as odd, as I know it does Filius and you, Arthur… that a matter of this magnitude should not have received greater attention from either the foreign or domestic press," she continued, receiving nods of agreement.

"Unless there's more to the deal than is being communicated to the general public," Hestia put in, her brows furrowed in concentration.

"Exactly."

Ron mulled over the conversation and found himself at more than one loss.

 _But Sprout's expertise is going to help us out? Really…?_

Even if the witch _was_ somehow formerly affiliated with the mysterious Department of Mysteries, he had a hard time believing the dumpy Herbology professor would have much of a pulse of contemporary Ministry workings and international politics.

"And the Egyptian proposal?" Wickleffe asked, features openly confused.

 _At least I'm not alone._

"Shouldn't we be vetting the internal circumstances behind that one as well? Even if it doesn't hold priority?"

Ron almost missed the Headmistress' subtle glance in Narcissa Malfoy's direction, and had the other witch not stilled, he might have missed the connection.

"Our sources indicate that there is an equally troubling set of stipulations on their generosity as well, namely with regard to the integrity of the proposed products," McGonagall replied evenly. "At the moment, however… I believe our priority should remain with Greece."

Ron filed away the witch's response for later consideration.

"Speaking of the Greeks, didn't you have an apprenti-"

"Concerning our earlier discussion, do we believe the Order's presence could provide the needed collateral?"

Ron willed his features to remain neutral as the Headmistress neatly avoided Professor Jones' rather rude and invasive question, though there wasn't time to consider the evasion in earnest.

 _Collateral what?_

Flitwick made a tsking noise under his breath and Gawain exchanged a significant look with Wick that he couldn't quite interpret. Hestia and Sprout fell silent and Ron gathered that McGonagall's question had been directed to those whose wands were needed.

A moment later, Ron watched with a sinking feeling as his own father removed his hat tiredly.

It was a gesture he had seen his father perform a hundred times in his own kitchen every time one of his own children presented him with a request he was reluctant to grant.

"Dicey matter, there," came the response a moment later.

Feeling a strange mixture of pride and trepidation, Ron waited as the entirety of their small group shifted to give his father the floor.

"The fact of the matter is that our Ministry has lost a great deal of influence throughout Western Europe in the wake of the Second War and we are desperate to regain our international standing," he sighed. "Before Voldemort's return, Time Magic had been well-researched and stockpiled in the Department of Mysteries for close to five centuries… however, to put it simply we have now been left with a blank slate. The first wave of reports from the Unspeakables have indicated that there's less than a five percent chance of being able to salvage our Time-Turner supply in the coming year, let alone the coming decade, however they remain hopeful that even a handful of new Turners would be enough to piece together their research and regain a bit of footing with our international trading partners."

"True, but it's no secret that Voldemort targeted the Chronicians," huffed Professor Jones as he eyed the group knowingly. "How many are even left to continue the research? And what is the _nature_ of their research? The Time Turners were one matter, but the lack of direction in that department leaves a lot to be desired."

There were a smattering of somber nods.

"Then you understand our predicament and why we _need_ one of these proposals to succeed."

Ron grew very still and despite everyone's thoughtful focus remaining upon his father, he also knew that Harry was undoubtedly feeling the same flood of shame and guilt as he was.

 _The Time Turners were our fault…_

Weren't they?

Ron shook himself free from the useless thoughts and realized that Pomona Sprout had spoken.

"- lean toward an offer?"

His father grimaced.

"Of course Greece and China have the monopoly on Time Magic, however, as I said before the difference in Eastern and Western conceptions of time and technology make Greece the more palatable partner for our own research."

"And Egypt?"

Another grimace.

"Tough to say. Again, we're speaking out of my realm of expertise… but I gathered that the modifications would be intensive. Anyone have further insight?"

The Headmistress sighed softly and shifted, features growing pensive as she steepled long fingers. Ron had the distinct impression that the witch knew far more about everything that was being discussed than she was communicating.

 _Perhaps she's more like Dumbledore after all..._

To his surprise, it was Narcissa Black who leaned forward to respond.

"In regards to Time, one can conceive of magical instruments as merely surface level tools with which we may engage in powerful communion with one of the least understood forms of magic that threads through our world," she answered, typically haughty features far more relaxed and pensive than he had ever seen.

"Time is immaterial and dangerous. It is reckless to meddle with such powers, however as most know, time _loops_ remain one of the greatest commodities we have learned to cultivate in the past several decades. However, establishing a secure pocket is literally a time-consuming enterprise and nigh impossible now that we have lost such a substantial quantity of instruments that are utilized to find a stable nexus and entrance point. To teach our Chronicians a new system of approaching an already difficult craft would be… unwise."

The group fell silent as they listened. There were a number of thoughtful nods, though Ron noted how most of the Hogwarts professors appeared unsurprised by Narcissa's summary. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering after their shared credentials… and his thoughts briefly flitted toward memories of their conversation with Hermione.

 _Do all Hogwarts professors hold a Mastery?_

Somehow the brief thought made him uneasy. Societal rules made such an arrangement seem… inadvisable.

"Do we know how many loops were lost?" Professor Sprout asked solemnly.

Narcissa's gaze slid across the group expectantly.

"No. That information remains within Kingsley's circle," his father replied quietly. "However given the lack of attention this matter has received in other departments, I gather the Chronicians are either continuing their investigation on their own or that far more of them were lost than has been released to the rest us."

Ron's mind was reeling and he felt overwhelmed to say the least.

Finally chancing a look at Harry, he saw that his friend's face was an open mask of confusion, while Gawain appeared to be digesting the conversation with an almost angry look upon his face.

"So… let me get this straight."

Hestia Jones leaned forward, resting one elbow against her armrest as the other hand came up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Egypt wants to secure their European investments by providing us with a _substantial_ quantity of Time Turners that are incompatible with our past research materials and too limited to be actually useful... while Greece offers a _reasonable_ quantity of Time Turners in exchange for a massive Architectural overhaul of London that we have no actual authority to carry out without assistance from the Guild. And the Guild has still not forgiven the Ministry for past grievances at the end of Grindelwald's War, and anyway we're at a loss for their insight until the ICW retracts its statement condemning their Articles of Coherence. Did I get it all right?"

Ron could feel his eyes growing as large as saucers, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Gawain swore under his breath as Wickleffe wiped a tired hand over his face. Flitwick and his father were nodding, both wearing matching expressions of resignation.

Narcissa Black raised an elegant eyebrow.

"We live in interesting times, indeed," she replied.

"Slytherin's fucking snake," Hestia cursed, earning a snort from her uncle and a solid eye roll from Sprout.

Ron was incapable of preventing his eyebrows from rising any higher as Narcissa Malfoy touched a light hand to the younger witch's forearm and the two shared in a moment of dark disbelieving laughter.

"Then we are all understood?"

Ron's focus zipped back to the Headmistress, whose expression was inscrutable. The last vestiges of sunlight had already faded from the room and the witch's features were thrown into darker relief by the ambient firelight. Ron thought she might've been troubled.

"Quite." Pomona Sprout folded her hands across her ample stomach and huffled softly. She shot a look toward Flitwick who appeared almost angry.

"Aye," answered Gawain, sharing another glance with Wick.

There were a few more nods and acknowledgements from the rest of the group and the Headmistress snapped her fingers, abruptly vanishing her quill and parchment.

"We'll reconvene to discuss the logistics on the 'morrow," she finished.

As McGonagall rose in a fluid movement, Ron was only slightly behind the group as everyone stood in response.

 _Like rising for a queen..._

Emerald eyes were resolute as the Headmistress glanced around the group purposefully, somehow managing to convey determination and confidence. Elegant features tipped into a soft, reassuring smile, and Ron couldn't decide how he felt in response.

"I appreciate your presence today. Look for the usual signs and be safe, all of you."

The smattering of "yes ma'am's" and affirmatives sounded like a chorus of military officers and Ron finally couldn't help himself. Leaning behind Gawain's back, he caught Harry's troubled gaze and he knew his friend shared the single thought that continued to resound through his jumbled and addled brain.

 _What have we gotten ourselves into?_

* * *

 _A/N: To those asking for a timeline of what has transpired thus far... here it is:_

May 2nd, 1998 - Battle of Hogwarts  
September 1998 - Hermione moves to Naxos to study with Master Kallas; Harry and Ron join the Auror Academy, Minerva becomes Headmistress of Hogwarts

*one year*

Mon. Nov. 15, 1999: 5 violations of ISOS  
Wed. Nov. 17: The ICW holds an emergency convocation on Atlantis, Minerva and Dia meet in Anacapri; Minerva comes to Naxos for dinner  
Thurs. Nov. 18: Minerva sends out call asking to reconvene the Order  
Fri. Nov. 19: Order Meeting is held at the McGonagall Manse  
Sun. Nov. 21 - Hermione meets Konstantinos and Melina  
Sun. Nov. 28 - Dia leaves for the States/Guatemala; Hermione meets with Harry and Ron in London, Yiayia meets with Minerva  
Mon. Nov 29 - Hermione journeys to France with Yiayia; Dia is on assignment in Guatemala; Ron and Harry sit in upon a meeting at Hogwarts  
Fri. Dec. 3 - Transfiguration Quorum convenes jointly with the ICW convocation on Atlantis  
Tues. Dec. 7 - First official Order meeting is to be held


End file.
